


Sleepless in Seattle

by gray_autumn_sky



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Advent 2018, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-20
Updated: 2018-12-24
Packaged: 2019-09-23 18:43:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 54,961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17085656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gray_autumn_sky/pseuds/gray_autumn_sky
Summary: Robin is a grieving widower whose son just wants him to be happy again. Regina is recently divorced and trying to figure what is next for her and her son. When she hears Robin’s story on the radio on Christmas, she feels an automatic connection--and as crazy as it seems, she can’t get him out of her head.





	1. Chapter 1

April 9, 1992- Seattle, Washington:

Robin stares at Belle for a moment, shaking his head as his jaw trembles. For hours now, he’s been crying--sometimes sobbing, his body heaving as angry tears roll down his cheeks, and sometimes not even aware of it until he feels cold tears collecting on his chin--but somehow having to tell another person makes it so much worse. It makes it real. So, when his lips part to explain what happened that afternoon, nothing comes--instead, he shakes his head as fresh tears well in his eyes and his sister pulls him into a tight hug.

She understands.

She knows the struggle that’s been the last four months.

And she’s an adult; she doesn’t need to be told.

But Roland, his six year-old son whose sleeping down the hall won’t have that same understanding. He won’t simply know what happened, and he’ll need his father to explain it to him--and Robin isn’t quite sure how he’s going to do that because he doesn’t quite understand it himself.

He doesn’t understand how less than a week ago, Marian was fine; and now, she’s gone.

“H-how am I supposed to tell him his mother died?” he asks, pulling back and searching his sister’s eyes. “How do you tell a kid something like that?”

“I don’t know,” Belle answers, her voice soft and barely audible.

“He still believes in Santa and the Easter Bunny, and the Tooth Fairy. He--” Robin stops, his eyes pressing closed as he draws in a breath. “He doesn’t know how cruel the world can be. He’s too young.”

“I know he is,” Belle says, pulling him back to her. “But he has you still, you know.”

“I don’t think--”

“You two will get through this together.”

Robin nods as he pulls back. “You’re right,” he tells her, not really believing that. “I, um… I should…”

“Yeah…”

Swallowing hard, he makes another failed attempt to compose himself as Belle leads him to the back bedroom, and he searches for something to say, for a place to even begin…

Marian hadn’t wanted to tell Roland she was sick.

First because she didn’t want to ruin his Christmas--the last Christmas she might have with him--and then because her doctors were encouraged by her response to a new, experimental treatment. By spring, they had every reason to believe she’d make a full recovery, that she’d defy the odds of her diagnosis. They told them that they should be hopeful and optimistic, so again, telling Roland seemed a moot point, and Marian argued there was no reason to worry him unnecessarily.

And who was he to argue?

Then, two weeks ago, Marian woke up in the middle of the night with flu-like symptoms. Robin got up with her and made her some tea as he called into work, then called her doctor. He’d wanted to take her to the emergency room, but Marian argued and the doctor on-call told them to watch it through the night, and if by morning her fever hadn’t dropped, to bring her in.

He’d gotten into bed and held her as she sipped the tea, and before she drifted off to sleep, she told him that she was feeling better. He knew then that she’d said it for his benefit--she never liked to make people worry about her or fuss over her--but something hadn’t sat well with him. So, he called again and again, the doctor advised to bring her in in the morning.

A neighbor had taken Roland to school--and thankfully, this wasn’t an uncommon occurrence--and by then, even Marian conceded that they should probably go into the ER.

She was admitted and given fluids, and he’d fallen asleep at her bedside, holding onto her hand. He’d awoken when a nurse came in, and then, at Marian’s request, he’d stepped out for the examination. He went down to the cafeteria and gotten a cup of coffee before finding a payphone and calling Belle, asking if she could pick up Roland. As she always did, Belle agreed, promising to keep things light and make no mention to Roland about where his parents really were--and then, as he thanked her, he felt a sinking in his stomach.

That feeling never went away.

For two days, he sat at Marian’s bedside, watching idly as she got sicker and sicker, and one thing led to another. Her body was weak from treatment and her immune system was shot; she simply hadn’t been able to fight off the virus. His entire body had gone numb as the doctors told him and that terrible feeling he’d been pushing back since the moment Marian was first diagnosed came rushing forward, leaving him inconsolable.

Telling Roland would be the single most difficult thing, though.

Roland knew something was wrong. He was a smart little boy, and though he loved sleepovers at Aunt Belle’s--and the movies and ice cream and pizza that came with them--they never happened in the middle of the week and they never happened so abruptly.

Drawing in a long, deep breath, he tries to compose himself, watching as Roland fidgets on the bed--and when he tries to smile, he finds that he can’t, even for his son. As their eyes meet, Roland’s jaw starts to tremble and his eyes widen as he notices the tears in his aunt’s and father’s eyes.

“D-daddy?” he asks, his voice cracking as Belle pulled the door closed to give them a little privacy. “W-what’s wrong? Where’s mom?”

“Mom got sick,” he says, somewhat abruptly, not really knowing what else to say as he crouches down in front of his son, still trying to figure out what he’s supposed to say, how he’s supposed to explain this, and how he’s supposed to live with himself after shattering his son’s entire world. “She--”

“Is she in the hospital?” Roland asks, his voice full of alarm. “Did she have to stay there?”

Robin shakes his head and his face crumbles. His heart aches as he looks to Roland. “It, um… happened so fast,” he tells him, thinking of how cruel it seems that after her grim diagnosis, she’d die from something as common as the flu. “Roland, the doctors, they, um… they couldn’t help her. She was too sick and--”

“No--”

“Roland--”

“No,” he says again, this time louder as his voice fills with panic. “They had to help her. That’s what doctors do! They make people better when they’re sick.”

“They tried, but--”

“No.”

“I’m so sorry, Roland,” Robin says, his voice catching in his chest as tears well up in his eyes. “They couldn’t. They tried. They really did, but… they couldn’t make her better.”

“But that’s what they’re supposed to do!”

“I know, Roland, and they tried.”

“But--”

“She’s gone. They did everything they could, but they couldn’t save her.” For a moment, Roland just stares at him as tears stream down his cheeks. Robin strokes his hands over his knees and up his thighs, just like he used to when his son was a baby because it always seemed to calm him. “I’m so sorry, Roland.”

Roland’s face reddens as it scrunches up, and when his lips part to say something, all that comes out is a cry. Robin pulls him into his arms, holding him as tightly as he can, rocking him back and forth as he rubs his back--and, despite his efforts to calm him, nothing seems to work.

“It’s not fair!”

“I know it isn’t.”

“Why her?” he asks, burying his face into the crook of Robin’s neck. “Why mom?”

“I don’t know,” he admits, his throat tightening as struggles to maintain the little composure he has. “I’ve been asking that same question.”

“It’s not fair,” Roland says again, his time quieter as he hugs himself closer to his father. “It’s… just… it’s not…”

“I know, son,” Robin sighs. “I know it’s not.”

He holds Roland a little tighter as he stands up and shifts himself to the bed, sitting back against the pillows as he swings Roland’s legs over his lap. He cups the back of his head and presses a kiss to his hair, and for a while, neither of them says anymore.

Every now and then, he glances to the alarm clock on the bedside table, watching as the minutes pass. It’s odd to him, that time is moving normally because since the moment Marian died--since he stood at the back of her hospital room watching as the heart monitor let out a long, languished beep and as her doctor took her pulse and shook his head--time seemed to stand still.

But he and Roland had been in Belle’s guest room for more than two hours.

Roland’s cries had quieted, and he thought maybe he was asleep. When he was a toddler, he often cried himself out, exhausting himself and falling into a long, hard nap whenever he was really upset. Marian called it the calm after the storm; but now, he couldn’t help but think that was only the beginning of it, and he couldn’t see a way any of this would ever be okay.

_____

April 9, 1992- Greenwich, Connecticut:

Regina stares down at the divorce papers in front of her--her signature in blue ink, and Leopold’s in black--and a little sigh escapes her. She thought she’d feel something when she saw them--something, though she’s not sure what--but instead, she just feels numb.

Her marriage hadn’t been a happy one, not even at the start.

She and Leopold met at a fundraiser that her mother was hosting. He’d been dateless and so had she, and her mother couldn’t help but push them together. She was young and pretty and he was wealthy and established, and according to her mother, Leopold Blanchard was all her mother had ever wanted for her.

At first, she’d scoffed at the idea of dating him. He was twice her age and lacked a personality, but she’d just gotten out of yet another disastrous relationship and she figured Leo would be something different. Two nights after they met, he called to invite her to an art gallery opening; and while she wasn’t interested in any of it, she agreed to go, figuring she could use a change of pace. After all, she wasn’t having much luck find love on her own, and she figured there was little harm in his invitation.

And her mother had been delighted.

When she got home, her mother was waiting and she’d sat on the edge of her bed asking for all sorts of details and beaming as Regina embellished the dull evening.

Then, the next day, Leopold sent her flowers--and her mother gushed about it, making it nearly impossible to decline a second date or a third… or a fourth. After that, she knew that she could never fall in love with Leopold Blanchard and that she was wasting his time as well as hers, but her mother took it as a personal insult, reminding her that she wasn’t getting any younger--after all, she was pushing at thirty, and after that point, finding someone would be much harder.

Of course, Regina was barely twenty-four, but her mother’s words combined with her lack of success dating had an effect on her. So, she agreed to another date, and before she knew it a year had passed.

Everyone constantly told her what a catch Leopold was and how lucky she was to have landed such a desirable bachelor, taking her aside a parties and asking her how she did it--so, naturally, she thought the problem was her and she wondered why she didn’t see what everyone else seemed to.

Leo proposed to her at gala opening in front of her mother and a large handful of other guests whose names adorned buildings in Hartford and Manhattan, and though she knew she was more than certain she wasn’t in love with him and could never be, she’d simply nodded and said yes. Everyone clapped and her mother rushed forward to hug her, and for the first time that she could remember, she told her she was proud of her.

And that had been that.

They’d married that summer and it’d been the event of the season. Everyone who was anyone was there and their wedding picture made the front page of the society section of the newspapers--and she knew she should be happy.

But she wasn’t--and that was a common theme of her marriage.

Henry had been the lone bright spot--an unplanned bright spot that made her stay longer than she should have. She put up with his affairs and dismissiveness, and she came to expect her birthday to go forgotten. Long before they even filed for divorce, they’d gone their separate ways. Still, though, now that it was over she thought she should feel something, yet here she was sitting in a coffee shop, waiting for Mal and feeling nothing.

She sighed and tucked the papers back into the envelope, then tucked the envelope into her purse, and for the  millionth time, she wondered if love would always evade her, if she was meant to always be alone. Sure, she had her son, and on most days, he was more than enough. But Henry was nearly ten and if the first ten years were any indication, the next eight would fly by.

And being alone in an empty nest seemed immeasurably bleak.

“Tall decaf cappuccino!”

Looking up, she watches as the barista sets her cup down on the counter, and shifting her purse into the chair beside her, she gets up--and as she reaches for her coffee, so does someone else.

“Oh, no, that--”

“Regina.”

Her eyes widen as memories flood her. “Daniel, I--”

“How are you?”

“I’m--” She stops, suddenly remembering the night they broke up and how terrible she’d felt afterward. “I’m good. I’m… good.”

“Is this…?”

“My coffee?” she supplies. “It is, or I think it is.”

“Seems like we ordered the same thing.”

Slowly, and a bit awkwardly, she reaches for the cup of coffee--and in the back of her head, she hears Mal’s voice telling her that this is a sign--and though she doesn’t personally believe in signs (or fate or destiny or anything of the like), it was quite the coincidence that she’d run into an ex-boyfriend--who she often lamented was the one who got away--on the day her divorce was finalized.

“Do you, um… have plans for that coffee?” Almost immediately she grimaces at her own awkwardness. “I mean—“

“Are you asking if I want to sit down and have a cup of coffee with you?” Her cheeks are still warm and she offers him a sheepish and uncharacteristic little half nod. “Because I’d love that.”

“Oh.”

“Is… is that what you meant? Because—“

“It is!” she says, a bit too quickly. “I just—“

“Let’s sit.”

She nods as Daniel chuckles softly—and all the way back to her table, she chides herself for acting like a fumbling idiot.

“So, how have you been? It’s been—“

“Years.”

“Yes,” she nods, remember the last time they saw each other on the night when she broke up with him. “Too many.”

“It’s, uh, Blanchard now, right? You’re married?”

“Married and divorced,” she tells him, her fingers rubbing the cardboard coffee cup. “So it’s Mills again.”

“Ah—“

“And you?”

“Married? No.”

“Oh, that’s—“

“Incredibly lucky—or well, I can’t help but think so now. I might have had a different answer ten minutes ago.”

She grins—and again, a part of her agrees. It is lucky and maybe it’s even a sign.

They slip into an easy conversation, reminiscing about the past—telling old stories about high school. They talk about things she hasn’t thought about in years. Talking to him is comfortable and she feels a flicker of the person she was before her marriage—and somewhere in the middle of it all, she realizes that she hadn’t been aware that that person was lost.

From the corner of her eye, she sees Mal come into the coffee shop. Very briefly she looks away from Daniel, watching as her friend’s brows arch and when she grins, a look of understanding resonates on Mal’s face, and she moves to the counter to order her own coffee before slipping into a seat on the other side of the shop.

Giving Mal one last glance and she laughs to herself as she wonders what she might be thinking.

Mal has never made any effort to cover up her feelings about Regina’s love life. She didn’t try to hide her dislike of Leopold and she regularly reminded her that her life didn’t go awry until she broke up with Daniel and that her efforts to please her mother always came back to bite her. Given Mal’s own personal—quirky and hippie-like belief system—she would be greatly amused to learn how her friend an adamant denier of fate—came to a place where she was sitting across from a former love she often lamented was the one who got away.

She doesn’t linger on it, instead turning her attention back to Daniel, focusing on a story he’s telling of his first job out of college—a decision that made his family happy, but crushed his heart in ways he never conceived possible.

At that, she laughs—she knows a thing or two about that—and she tells him about her own decisions that led her to a relatively dull and unfulfilling existence. 

She finishes her coffee before he does and she can’t help but notice the way he nurses it, almost as if willing it to last.

And she can’t help but find that sweet—and she can’t help but realize that she, too, doesn’t want this impromptu coffee date to end.

“Would you want to have dinner tomorrow night?” Daniel blurts out, his cheeks flushing as her eyes widen with surprise. “I… am having a really good time right now and—“

“I am, too,” she admits. “Dinner sounds… wonderful.”

He looks relieved and that makes her smile—she can’t remember the last time a man wanted to have dinner with her muchless looked like he’d won the lottery when she accepted.

Daniel reaches into the breast pocket of his jacket, fishing out his wallet and pulls out a card. “My personal number is the first one,” he tells her, extending the card. “Just… um… in case you need to get in touch with me or, um… wanted to talk or…”

“I’d like that,” she says, grinning down at the business card. “Do you… like Italian food?”

“I like any kind of food,” he admits, laughing. “There’s a new place—“

“In Hartford.”

“You know it.”

She nods. “A friend from college owns it. I’ve been looking for an excuse to go.”

“You need an excuse?”

“Well, my nine year old isn’t exactly the fine-dining type and he’d be sorely disappointed to learn that pizza is not real Italian food.”

“A disappointment I know well, but I am sure the good company will more than make up for it.”

“I’d hope.”

“So, shall I pick you up around seven?”

She blinks—she thought maybe they’d meet. “Alright,” she hears herself say, not quite sure how she’s going to tell Henry that she’s accepted a date—on a school night and the day after her divorce was finalized. “I think that’ll work. Can I call you tonight to work out the details. I need to find a sitter and double check my son’s schedule. Between Little League and homework and the equestrian lessons I’m forcing on him—“

“Equestrian,” Daniel says, brightening. “Do you still ride?”

“When I can force my son into coming with me.”

“Fantastic.”

“Is it?” She asks, laughing quietly. “I’m sort of afraid the forced bonding experiences are going to backfire on me one day.”

“Perhaps,” he concedes, shrugging absently. “But now I’ve got an idea for a second date.”

“A second date—“

“Yes.”

“Isn’t that a bit premature? What if you find more than twenty minutes with me completely insufferable?”

“I highly doubt that’ll be the case. We always got on well and I am having a fantastic time right now.”

She grins. “I am, too.”

“I only wish that I hadn’t made plans this evening.”

“Ah—“

“I’m meeting with a client to discuss all the brilliant ways I’ve come up with to stretch his dwindling inheritance.”

“Oh. Fun.”

Daniel’s eyes roll. “That’s one word for it.”

“So if I call you around nine—“

“I look forward to that.”

“Me, too,” she admits as he rises up from the table. “I’m glad we ran into each other today.”

“I am, too,” he tells her, tossing a few bills down onto the table to cover his portion of the tip.

They exchange awkward little waves as he leaves and before he’s even out the door, Mal is at the table, sliding into his seat.

“That was—“

“Yes.”

“Oh, my, what an interesting turn of events!”

“You’re telling me.”

“Here I thought I’d be helping you nurse your wounds, but it seems you’ve found someone else to help you nurse them.” She grins a bit coyly. “Someone far more qualified.”

“Well, I don’t know about that, but we do have a date tomorrow… provided I can find a sitter.”

“Are you asking me to babysit my favorite child?”

Regina’s brow arches. “How would your daughter feel about that?”

Mal sighs. “Lily will be coming with me and it’s no secret that she and I aren’t on the best of terms.”

“Oh?”

“Last night, Lily nearly set my drapes on fire hiding her cigarette and then still tried to deny that she was smoking.” Again, Mal sighs as she leans back in the chair and crosses her arms over her chest. “So, yes, spending an evening with your innocent, adorable son sounds absolutely delightful.”

“Well, this is a change of pace.”

“You dating?”

“Well… yes, but… I meant this talking about your problems instead of mine.”

“Oh, no,” Mal says, shaking her head. “We are not talking about my problems. My problem has been grounded until the end of the month and when she’s not at school, she has a new shadow. So… problem solved.” A grin curls onto Mal’s lip as she leans forward, resting her elbows on the table. “So, tell me about this date…”


	2. Chapter 2

April 16, 1992- Seattle, Washington:

He couldn’t rationalize it, and he knew that if he tried to understand it, he’d go insane.

In the week since Marian died, he’d been living in a fog, and he’d never been more lost.

Marian was always the one who handled things, and now that he was tasked with comforting their son, he wasn’t sure where to begin. This was the sort of thing that, under any other circumstances, she would do.

Every time he and Roland spoke, Roland had a million questions that the couldn’t answer—and had it not been for his sister and her girlfriend, Ruby’s constant presence in their lives, neither he nor Roland would be functioning.

He knew that their help came with an expiration date; and though neither of them would ever tell him they could no longer help, he knew that it wasn’t fair for their lives to come to a complete halt simply because his life had. So, he gave himself until the end of Marian’s wake to pull himself together and figure out what he’d do next. He told himself that the funeral would bring closure, but he was wrong and still, he was grappling with how he’d cope with this new reality.

“So, you’ve got enough food to last through the end of next week,” Ruby says.

“For most of these, just pop them in the microwave for five minutes and—“ He’s vaguely aware that his sister’s voice has stopped. “Do you know how to make juice? I know Roland likes that terrible freezer kind that—“

“Yeah,” he murmurs absently, staring out at the backyard, watching as it rains. “Five minutes in the microwave.”

“Robin—“

‘Hm?”

“Maybe we should stay—“

“Yeah,” Ruby agrees. “Just until—“

“No,” he cuts in, turning back to them. “I need to figure this out on my own, and I won’t do that if you two are here.”

“Robin, it’s a little soon to—“

“It’s not going to get any easier.”

Belle sighs as she crosses the kitchen. “I’d be happy to—“

“No,” he says again. “I need to figure this out, and the sooner I do, the better.”

He doesn't give them time to argue. Instead, he leans in and gives his sister a loose hug and a quick kiss on the cheek, then does the same to Ruby before excusing himself.

He draws in a long breath as he walks toward Roland’s bedroom, and his heart breaks when he finds him, curled up in the old rocking chair where Marian used to read him his bedtime story.

“Roland—“

“I miss her.”

“I know, son,” he sighs as he comes into the room. “I do, too.”

“My heart hurts.”

“Mine, too.”

“I can still smell her,” he says, looking up. “On the chair.”

A tight smile tugs onto his lips as he thinks about the last few nights and the way he clung to Marian’s pillow, trying in vain to feel close to her.

“Do you think mama’s in heaven?”

“I know she is,” Robin says, swallowing through what he hopes isn’t a lie. “If anyone could get into heaven, it’s her.”

“What’s it like there?”

“In heaven?”

Roland nods as he considers—he hasn’t really thought about this before. He’s never been religious and he’s not sure he believes in any sort of afterlife, but his skepticism isn’t what his son needs.

“Do you remember the lake house we went to last summer?”

Roland nods. “It’s hard to forget a place without electricity… or a bathroom.”

Robin laughs. “Well, that’s true, but do you remember how happy mum was there?” Again, Roland nods. “Well, it’s like that.”

“Is it?”

Sitting down on the little ottoman across from him, he leans in and grabs onto Roland’s legs, pulling him to the edge of the chair.

“Do you remember how happy she was there, though?” He asks, his voice almost pleading—and an odd feeling of relief washes over him when Roland nods. “Well, heaven is a lot like that.”

“What if you don’t like lake houses?

“Well… it’s… different for everyone.”

“Oh.”

“So, for mama, it’s—“ He draws in a breath, trying not to feel the pain of a happy memory that now feels so bittersweet. “Every morning she gets up and does yoga by the lake and—“

“She loved doing that.”

“Yeah,” he nods. “And then, she has a big breakfast—“

“Oatmeal with raspberries?” Roland asks, his eyes lighting up with hope. “That was her favorite.”

“Yes, every morning she gets a bowl of oatmeal and raspberries, and then… she spends the rest of her day going on hikes and floating on a big inner tube in the lake and—“

“What if it rains?”

He blinks. “It doesn’t rain.”

“Good,” Roland decides. “Mama always hated the rain.”

“Yeah,” Robin murmurs, thinking of the argument that he and Marian had gotten into when his job moved them to Seattle. “She did.”

“What else is in heaven?” Roland asks. “Do they get to have bonfires? Mama always liked bonfires at night.”

“Oh, there’s a big one every single night,” Robin says, grinning as Roland brightens, seemingly comforted by his description of the afterlife. “And, of course, they get to make s’mores.”

“Good!”

“Yeah…”

“It sounds like she’d be happy there.”

Robin nods. “It does.”

Then, Roland’s face falls—and all over again, his heart aches. “Do you think she misses me?”

“All of the time.”

“But she won’t come back?”

“She can’t,” Robin replies. “But she does miss you and she hates that she can’t be here with you.”

“She’s going to miss my first soccer game.”

Robin nods, and his throat tightens. “I know.”

“You’ll be there, though?”

“Of course.”

“And… do you think… that… that… maybe she could… see it?” Roland asks shyly. “I mean, I know she can’t actually be there, but—“

“Ooh,” Robin breathes out. “I didn’t tell you.”

“Tell me what?”

“About the movies.”

Roland’s brow furrows with confusion. “What movies?”

“Well, whenever they’re really missing someone—like the way your mama will miss you—they can watch some of the things they’re missing.”

Roland nods, considering it as if it makes sense to him. “Do they sell popcorn?”

“Yes,” Robin nods. “Of course, with lots of butter and—“

“Do they sell Sno Caps?”

“What would heaven be without sno caps?”

Roland giggles. “That’s true.”

“So, whenever your mama misses you, all she has to do is buy a ticket and get a big bowl of popcorn and a big box of Sno Caps, and… sit back and watch.”

“Do you think she’ll watch my soccer game?”

“Oh, of course she will. You know how much she was looking forward to it.”

“Yeah,” Roland nods, grinning again. “She was.”

“She is.”

Again, Roland brightens as Robin takes hold of his legs, pulling him off of the chair and into his lap as he cuddles him too his chest. He takes long, deliberate breaths, gently rocking his son and breathing in the soft smell of his hair—and tears fill his eyes when he smells Marian’s shampoo.

“We’re going to be okay, Roland,” he whispers. “You and me, we’re going to figure this out.”

“Mama will help,” Roland replies. “I know she will… especially if she’s been watching these last couple of days.”

Robin pulls back. “Is that commentary on my burnt toast?”

Roland giggles. “Maybe.”

“Well, it’s a good thing she’s watching over us then.”

“Yeah,” Roland murmurs as he cuddles back in. “It is.”

_____

April 16, 1992- Greenwich, Connecticut:

They had an easy and relaxing evening—sushi for dinner followed by a movie, then afterward, he’d walked her home. It was one of the first really warm evenings of the year and they took their time, chatting lightly about the movie.

Being with him was… nice.

She liked him. She always had, and she’d forgotten what it was like to be in the company of someone she enjoyed.

When she’d left that evening, Henry—with Mal and Lily’s prodding—asked when he was going to meet her new boyfriend. The question made her bristle and she wasn’t sure boyfriend was the right term to describe what Daniel was to her. But she supposed, inviting him for a nightcap couldn’t hurt, and when Daniel casually asked about meeting Henry, she decided that, maybe, that meant it was time. After all, what harm could come from inviting him in for a cup of coffee and letting Henry tell him all about the science project he’d been working on.

Her stomach fluttered when they reached her doorstep, and she bit down on her lip and hesitated. She wasn’t sure how comfortable she was bringing a strange man into her son’s life, especially if she didn’t know how long he’d be a part of hers.

Dating was new again for her—and dating with a child was completely uncharted territory.

Sure, she enjoyed Daniel’s company and on each of their dates she’d had a good time; but there was something about being with him that felt off, something she couldn’t quite pin-point.

And it was driving her insane.

Daniel was exactly the sort of man she envisioned herself spending the rest of her life with—in fact, for part of her life he was exactly the man she envisioned herself spending the rest of her life with. He was good-natured and thoughtful, kind and considerate, and they had so many common interests. She had a good time when she was with him and because of their history, they were able to slide back into old and comfortable patterns. With Daniel, she knew exactly what to expect. There were no surprises or guesses. It was steady, and after a tumultuous year, Daniel was exactly what she should have wanted for herself and for her son.

Yet, there was something that didn’t quite feel right—and when he rubbed his thumb at the back of her wrist and smiled gently at her, she knew she should feel something.

But she didn’t, and she assumed the problem was with her.

She wasn’t used to this sort of thing and she wasn’t used to having her feelings considered. There wasn’t any reason she shouldn’t be happy with the seemingly fated turn her life had taken, and by the time they reached her doorstep, she managed to convince herself that what was feeling was… something other than what she was feeling, and with time, it would fade.

“So tonight was fun,” he tells her, awkwardly shifting on his feet and looking to the glowing porch light. “We seem to be making a habit of this.”

“Three dates in a week definitely sounds like a habit.” She grins. “But I’ve enjoyed them.”

“Me, too.”

She meant that—she did enjoy it. When they were together she didn’t think about her awful ex or looming deadlines or how much time she’d have between Henry's after school activities to grab a quick dinner for the two of them. When she was with him, she was fully present in the moment and when she wasn’t, she found herself looking forward to the next time they’d see each other.

“So, um… do you want to come in? You don’t have to, but—“

“I’d love to.”

“It’s a school night, so—“

“I won’t overstay my welcome. I promise.”

“Okay,” she murmurs, reaching for her key—and as she pushes the key into the lock, her breath catches when the door swings open. “Oh.”

“I didn’t mean to eavesdrop,” Mal says. “But—“

“Sure you didn’t,” Regina saying, a little laugh rousing into her voice as she pulls the screen door open. “Daniel, you remember Mal, right?”

“Of course,” he says, grinning and extending his hand to shake hers. “How could I forget my girlfriend’s best friend?”

Mal’s brow arches as she looks to Regina.

“I mean, my high school girlfriend,” he clarifies, his cheeks flushing. “I didn't mean—“

“Smooth,” Regina laughs. “Come on in.” Taking a breath, she looks to Mal. “Is Henry awake?”

“Of course he is,” Mal says, shaking her head. “He and Lily are playing Zelda upstairs. But they think that I think she’s reading him a bedtime story.”

“Ah—“

“And judging by the sound effects coming from Henry’s room, they think I’m delusional… and Henry is wiping the floor with her.”

Laughing, Regina shakes her head. She’d anticipated a later-than-usual bed time since she’d gone out, and she was a little relieved that she’d still get to tuck him in. At nine years old, she knew those days were numbered and she wanted to cherish however many she had left.

“I’ll just go and… um… grab him,” Regina says, looking to Daniel. “He’s been asking when he gets to meet you and—“

“I want to meet him, too.”

“Can you grab my daughter, too?” Mal asks. “She still has math homework to do, and we really should be getting out of your way.”

Regina grins and nods, silently thanking her—both for babysitting and knowing when to leave—and as she heads up the stairs, she hears Mal and Daniel falling into a conversation about an old high school performance of The Crucible, and by the time she reaches the stairs, she can hear them laughing—and that makes her smile.

Leopold had never wanted to have anything to do with her friends, and in the rare times she brought them around, he was often icy and disinterested. He wouldn’t even fake it for just a couple of minutes to ease the awkwardness.

“Hey,” she murmurs, poking her head into Henry’s room. “Come on downstairs. There’s someone I want you to meet.” She offers Henry a quick wink before looking to Lily. “And I think your mom is about ready to go.”

Lily nods as Henry rolls off the bed, and she can’t help but smile was Lily gives him a high-five and turns off the TV.

Her stomach flutters as the three of them make their way downstairs, and when she reaches the kitchen, Mal is already wearing her coat.

“Oh, you don’t—“

“Yes, I do,” Mal says, reaching for Lily and linking her arm through hers. “Call me tomorrow?”

“Of course.”

And then, as she turns around, she watches as Daniel turns to Henry. He introduces himself as an old friend of hers and shakes his hand, and by the time she’s walked Mal to the front door, Henry is telling him all about the video game he and Lily had just been playing. She doesn't interrupt; she just lets them talk as she goes to the kitchen and pours two mugs of coffee.

She can’t help but laugh when she returns because Henry is going on and on about the game, and Daniel is doing his best to follow along, but is staring at her son as if he’s speaking Chinese—and when he notices her, he looks up briefly, offers a quick wink, then returns his focus to Henry.

And once more, she finds herself thinking that she'd be crazy not to be interested in him.


	3. Chapter 3

December 24, 1992- Seattle, Washington:

Christmas music plays gently in the background as Robin uncorks a bottle of wine, dividing it into three glasses. He smiles as he watches Ruby come up behind Belle, resting her chin on her shoulder as her arms wrap around her waist as Belle flips through the TV Guide.

“What are you looking for?”

“Something that’s not It’s a Wonderful Life,” Belle sighs. “I love that movie, but--”

“They’ve already played it on two channels today.”

“You know how I feel about repeats.”

“I know, I know,” Ruby sighs. “You made that perfectly clear when I suggested that claymation Rudolph movie this morning.”

“I just don’t understand why three films get played over and over and over again year after year after year.”

Robin laughs softly as he watches Ruby press a kiss to Belle’s cheek. “It’s a losing argument, Ruby. She’s been this way since she was ten.”

Belle bristles and he grins as Ruby’s hold on her tightens. “How about that--”

“What?”

“An Affair to Remember.”

“That’s not a Christmas movie.”

“Not the hit-you-over-the-head kind of Christmas movie, but--” Belle looks back specifically and Ruby looks to him, obviously looking for an ally. “Come on, Robin. Tell her.”

“I… wish I could help, really,” he says, carefully lifting the three glasses. “But I’ve never seen it.”

Ruby looks offended and it makes him laugh. “Well, now we have to watch it.”

“Fine,” Belle sighs, taking one of the glasses. “If you two are going to gang up on me--”

“We’re hardly--”

“You’re being dramatic,” Ruby says, finally letting go of her and circling around to the other side of the couch in search of the remote. “Robin, you’ve really never seen this?”

He shakes his head and reaches for a plate of Christmas cookies that Roland decorated for Santa, and he selects a lopsided little reindeer with M&M eyes and a chipped antler--then gingerly, he bites off his head. “Marian wasn’t really a… romantic movie sort of girl.”

“Ah--”

“And it’s not quite something I’d pick up on my own.”

“Come on it’s got Cary Grant and--”

“She’d leave me for Cary Grant,” Belle interjects as she sits back on the couch and tugs Ruby down beside her, pouting as if she’s actually upset about the prospect. “In a heartbeat.”

“You realize he’s both dead and a man, right?”

“Well--”

They both stop, and suddenly, his chest feels tight.

Since Marian’s death, Ruby and Belle have been constants in his and Roland’s lives. They’ve been there for everything--from random dinners during the week to Roland’s soccer games all summer to school events, even suffering through the First Grade Thanksgiving Concert in which thirty-two first graders played songs on their recorders--hitting almost all of the high-pitched notes at the same time. They’d become regulars in their lives, keeping them in their established routines and doing their best to fill the void.

But occasionally, they forgot themselves or something came across in a way they didn’t mean. Usually it was less overt--a reference to something Marian used to make for dinner or asking why there was an empty bottle of lotion in the medicine cabinet, and once when Belle had been helping him to switch out Roland’s summer clothes for fall and winter ones, she’d found an old sweater in a hamper and as she pulled it out, she’d snagged it and both his and Roland’s faces had crumpled.

It was never intentionally, but it stung, and he was convinced that they always felt worse than he did. Of course, whenever things like that happened, it reopened old wounds, making them sting and bleed again--but this time was different, and this time made him sad for a completely different reason. Now, it wasn’t just that he missed her, it wasn’t just that he wanted her back, but now he had to live with the realization that didn’t sting as badly as it would have a month ago, it didn’t bleed the same way. Still, it hurt and still, he missed her--and somehow that seemed like a betrayal, like moving would be betraying her memory.

And moving on was unfathomable.

“Robin, I’m--”

“It’s okay,” he insists, trying to muster a smile. “It is.”

“No, I shouldn’t have--”

“Maybe we should just… put on the movie.”

His eyes press closed. “I didn’t mean--”

“You didn’t do or say anything wrong,” Ruby tells him. “I did.”

“No, I--”

“Daddy--”

They all stop and turn toward the stairs, their eyes falling to Roland who sits on the bottom step, hugging his knees to his chest as he sniffles back tears.

“Hey, you--”

“Aren’t you supposed to be asleep?  
  


“Santa’s waiting for you to--”

Before he can even rise from the couch, Roland’s face crumbles, and by the time he reaches him, scooping him up and cradling him in his arms, the boy is sobbing.

“Shh, Roland, whatever it is, it’s okay.”

“No, it’s not. It’s not okay.”

“Roland--”

“I forgot!”

“What?” He pulls back a little to look his son in the eye. “What did you forget?”

“Mama’s letter!”

He blinks. “What letter?”

“To Santa.”

Helplessly, he looks to Belle and Ruby who shake their heads and shrug. “Roland, what letter? You wrote one in school and--”

“We always wrote one and left it with the cookies,” he cuts in. “And I forgot.”

For a moment, all he can do is stare. He didn’t know about a letter, he barely knew about the cookies. Marian always had her own traditions with Roland, things they shared together. It wasn’t that he was excluded--they both had special little traditions with Roland--and usually he spent the time that they were baking and getting ready for Santa wrapping presents and making sure everything was properly assembled and had the necessary batteries. Once the cookies were set out and the presents were wrapped, they both tucked Roland into bed then retired downstairs, cuddling up together in front of the fire, watching the lights sparkle on the tree.

“It’s okay, son,” Robin says, kissing his cheek and wiping away his tears. “Santa hasn’t come yet.”

“But I forgot.”

“But you remembered now.”

Roland nods, but his face crumbled. “What if I forget her?”

“You won’t,” Robin says, his heart aching as he smiles. “You might… remember specific things less and memories might not always be as clear, but you won’t forget her.” Roland blinks and sniffles, but his eyes stay locked with his. “You know, you have her eyes and her smile?”

“I do?”

Robin nods. “I see her every time I look at you.”

“You do?” he asks, a little grin tugging up at one corner of his mouth. “Every time?”

“Well, when you smile and laugh, I do.” Leaning in, he kisses his forehead and rubs his nose against Roland’s. “And you know what else?” Roland shake his head. “She wouldn’t want you to be feeling bad on Christmas.”

“Yeah,” he nods, “That’s true. Christmas was her favorite.”

“It was,” Robin tells him, a little laugh rising into his voice. “Do you remember the year she made us string popcorn?”

Giggling, Roland nods. “I kept eating it.”

“Off of the tree!”

A smile spreads across his lips as he laughs. “It tasted good!”

“And then what happened.”

Roland frowns. “I got a stomach ache.”

“And then?”

“Mom made me peppermint tea.”

“And then?”

“She got worried that I ate some glue.”

“And why did she think that?”

“Because you glued the popcorn to the string.”

“Do you remember why?”

He nods. “Because you didn’t listen when she was showing you how to knot the string.”

Robin laughs. “That’s right.”

“And she laid in my bed and read me stories until I fell asleep.”

Swallowing the lump at the back of his throat, Robin forces himself to smile--and again, it hurts that it’s not that difficult. “See,” he tells him. “You do remember her.”

“Yeah,” Roland nods, grinning at him. “I guess I do.”

Kissing his cheeks again, Robin turns them back to the living room where Ruby and Belle are waiting for them with tears in their eyes--and together, the four of them sit down at the coffee table and write the nearly forgotten letter to Santa.

_____

December 24, 1992: Greenwich, Connecticut:

Regina takes a dish from Mal and dries it, trying to ignore the fact that after the dishes are done there’s still food to be divided up into tupperware containers and a handful of presents to wrap, and though it’s well-past midnight, she knows it’ll be hours before she’s able to go to bed.

“So,” Mal begins, nudging her arm as she soaps up a dish. “Daniel was here.”

“Yes, he was,” Regina says, grinning over at her. “You’re so observant.”

Mal’s eyes roll. “Inviting the boyfriend to Christmas dinner--”

“Christmas Eve dinner.”

“Same thing.”

“No, it’s not,” Regina insists, unsure of why this is even something that she’s arguing. “Christmas Eve is you and Lily, and Henry and me--”

“And Daniel.”

“Yes, and Daniel,” she sighs. “But Christmas is… my parents.”

“Your mother.”

“Unfortunately.”

“So, is he… coming over tomorrow?”

Biting down on her lip. “I told him he didn’t have to.”

Mal’s brow arches as she runs the dish under the running water. “What a welcoming invite. I’m sure he just snapped that up.”

“It’s not like he hasn’t met them before.”

“Meeting your girlfriend’s parents when you’re sixteen is very different than meeting them when you’re thirty-four.”

Regina blinks, and for a moment, she feels lost in the conversation. “So, are you saying he should or shouldn’t be coming? Because--”

“I’m not saying either.”

“Oh.”

“But judging by the way he kissed you goodnight, he wants to come over tomorrow.”

Regina blinks. “What?”

“Oh come on…”

“No… I just… what do you mean?”

For a moment, Mal just stares at her, then she scoffs and shakes her head. “You have no idea how crazy he is about you, do you?”

Hesitating, she bites down on her lip, taking a ready-to-dry plate from Mal. “I… like him, too.”

“You like him?” Mal asks, reaching for another dish to wash and frowning when she finds it caked in dried up gravy. “Regina, this isn’t the ninth grade anymore.”

“I am very aware of—“

“Are you in love with him?”

This shouldn’t be a difficult question; and really, it’s not. She does have feelings for Daniel and she loves having him around. He makes her laugh and feel cared for, he’s always there to offer an ear whenever she needs to vent—no matter how petty—and he’s made such an effort to get to know her son. Right from the start, things were comfortable and Daniel’s presence in her life—regardless of her own trepidation—was nothing short of a blessing. After a disastrous marriage, she was working on reclaiming herself, remembering who she was before she was Leopold’s wife and figuring how she’d changed and what she wanted from the world.

Daniel was kind and patient, and he never pushed her. He was simply content to just be there with her. They went on fun little dates—usually now involving Henry—and he came over for dinner almost every night.

In a lot of ways though, it felt like they were playing house. They were going through the motions without any of the commitment—and though she hadn’t quite admitted it to anyone, she liked that open-ended, go-with-the-flow sort of relationship.

Her marriage had been hard; and this was the exact opposite. It was easy and offered her companionship without any of the trappings that usually came along with it.

“I love him,” she says, after too long of a pause. “I do love him.”

“That’s different.”

She blinks as she accepts the dish from Mal. She knows that it is. “It’s not.”

“Regina, come on—“

“I love him, Mal. I’d be crazy not to.”

“That would carry a lot more weight if you weren’t so well-known for doing crazy things every now and then.”

She watches as Mal reaches for the soap. “Name one thing that—“

“You married a man you didn’t even like because your mother told you you should, then you stayed married to him for an entire decade.”

Regina’s shoulder square—she wasn’t quite expecting that. “Oh.”

With a sigh, Mal turns off the water and turns to face her, leaning up against the edge of the sink. “You do know that it’s okay not to be in love with him, right?”

Her eyes fall down to the soapy water. “But that’s just it… I… I think I might be. Or, at least, I could be.” Tentatively, she looks up, biting down on her bottom lip. “I… think I might just need to get out of my own way.”

“Well, I won’t argue with that,” Mal scoffs, flipping the water back on. “How does Henry feel about all this?”

“That’s not exactly something I discuss with my nine year old, Mal.”

Mal’s eyes roll. “I mean does Henry like Daniel? How does he feel about him being around?”

“He does.” A smile pulls onto her lips. “They… sort of have a thing whenever Daniel comes over.”

“Yeah?”

“It’s cute. I really thought Henry was going to be done with Boy Scouts this year, but Daniel seems to have renewed his interest.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Regina nods, grinning. “He helped him get two patches this fall.”

“That’s good.”

“It is,” Regina agrees, nodding. “It… it really is.”

Again, she focuses on the dish she’s drying, momentarily losing herself in thought—there was absolutely no valid reason she had for not being in love with him—and maybe, she thought, she didn’t actually know what being in love felt like. After all, it's hard to understand something you’ve never personally experienced.

“Regina, you know that—“

“I know that he makes me happy. I like being with him. I like spending time with him, and I love the way he cares about Henry. I like having something to come home to who actually seems like they’re glad to see me. I like having someone to eat dinner with and talk to and—“

“That doesn’t mean—“

“How do you know?” she asks, bristling with defense. “Maybe I am in love with him. Maybe—“

“Okay, okay,” Mal cuts in, handing her the last dish to dry and shutting off the water. “Relax. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

Regina takes a breath. It's not Mal’s fault, its hers.  For years, she dulled her own pain by ignoring it, and she never imagined that a consequence was that she’d also dull her ability to feel other things—but as she considers the last several months, that’s the only thing that makes sense to her.

Mal moves away from the sink and grabs an already-opened bottle of wine. “No use in letting this go to waste,” she says, grinning. “Let’s finish it off.”

Nodding, Regina sets the plate on the dish wrack, accepting the glass from Mal as she follows her into the living room—and as soon as she sits down and takes the first sip, she feels a bit better. “This is good,” she murmurs, smelling the wine and breathing in the oaky scent. “Where did you get it?”

“I didn’t get it,” Mal tells her. “Daniel did.”

For some reason, that makes her smile. Daniel isn’t a wine drinker. This wouldn't have been something he just had. He bought it with her in mind.

She takes another sip and curls her legs underneath herself. “We still have to stuff stockings.”

“I know,” Mal murmurs, making no effort to get up. “We will.”

“I have some games and things for Henry in my car and—“

“I miss that.”

“What?”

“Getting ‘games and things’ for Lily’s stocking.”

“What did you get her this year?”

“Gift cards. It’s what she wanted,” Mal tells her, sounding a bit sad as she sighs and sips the wine. “And a pack of nicorette gum.”

“Subtle.”

Mal shrugs. “Subtle hasn’t been working. I’m trying the sledgehammer approach now.”

“Well, that sounds fun.”

“It’s cathartic, really.”

“Poor Lily.”

“Poor me.”

Regina grins and leans back, her brow furrowing when something scratchy ruins against the back of her neck—And as she turns, she sees Daniel’s blazer hanging over the side of the couch. “Oh, he must have left this,” she murmurs, pulling the jacket into her lap and rubbing her fingers over the navy blue wool. “He looked nice in this.”

“It's a good color on him.”

“It brought out his eyes.” Regina says, grinning as she looks to Mal. “He has really pretty eyes.”

“He—“

Mal’s voice halts as Regina folds the blazer over her arm and out of the pocket falls a receipt.

“What’s that?”

“I don't know,” Regina murmurs, watching as Mal cranes her neck curiously—and then, her breath catches in her chest. “Oh my god.”

“What?” Mal asks, leaning in closer. “What is it for?”

“It’s… from a jewelry store.”

“Ooh, someone’s getting a nice gift.”

She blinks as her stomach tightens and an indescribable feeling overtakes her. “Someone’s getting a ring.”


	4. Chapter 4

December 25, 1992- Seattle, Washington:

Robin drew in a long, deep breath as he stood on the back porch, looking out at the woods.

It was a gloomy Christmas Day—though, to be fair, most days in Seattle were gloomy—and the rain hadn’t stopped since morning. He stared out at it, watching as the icy little droplets tapped on the porch’s bottom step, and all he could think of was that he couldn’t wait for Christmas to be over.

Christmas had been Marian’s favorite day of the year, and at every turn, something reminded him of her—more specifically, something reminded him that she was no longer there to enjoy it. It was all of the little things—her waking up with Roland just as the sun was coming up, her sitting on the floor helping him to pick out which presents to open, and playing Christmas music as she made them all waffles for breakfast. She always picked out some stupid sweater for them all to wear—last year’s was adorned with a Rudolph whose nose lit up thanks to a battery pack inside the sweater—and she and Roland would cuddle up together and I point out their favorite ornaments. Of course, the ornaments on the tree never actually changed, but every year, they found new favorites—and all the while, he sat back and watched, thinking of how lucky he was.  

But this Christmas, he didn't feel lucky.

The day before, he was worried about forgetting her—and today, she was everywhere, making the simplest of things painful.

Belle and Ruby were still there. Ruby was in the kitchen working on dinner—something he was supposed to be helping with—and Roland was curled up on the couch with Belle, wearing a new pair of fuzzy socks, eating candy from his stocking and watching one of the new tapes he’d gotten from Santa. He seemed content—more so than yesterday—and for that, Robin was glad and he hoped that he didn’t remember that the last time he saw Home Alone was in the theater with his mother.

“Robin,” Belle calls. “We’re going to go and pick up Ruby’s grandmother. The ham is in the oven and Roland is taking a nap.”

“Okay,” he murmurs, not looking at her. “Thanks.”

She takes a few steps toward him and presses her hand to his arm. “Do you want me to stay?”

“No, it’s okay. You can go.”

“It’s just the airport. I’d be happy to stay if—“

“I’m fine. Please, go.” He takes a breath and turns to her. “You two have been here constantly. Please. Go.”

“But—“

“I can manage on my own for an hour or two.”

“Okay,” Belle say in a hesitant voice. “If you’re sure.”

“I am,” he tells her, nodding as he forces himself to smile. “Honestly, I think I just needed a nap. Maybe I’ll go curl up with Roland.”

“That sounds nice,” she tells him, leaning up on her toes to give him a hug. “We’ll be back soon—and with pie!”

“I look forward to it.”

Robin watches them go—and then, slowly, pushes himself back into the house, trying in vain not to think about Marian. He falls back into the couch and closes his eyes, grateful that the silence lets him drift…

“Dad?” His eyes flutter open and he turns his head to see Roland, standing at the edge of the living room, holding the phone receiver against his shoulder. “Dad, you have a call.”

“Oh, who is it?” he asks, sitting up. It it one of your aunts?”

Roland shakes his head. “No, it’s, um… its a doctor.”

His brow furrows as he watches Roland fidget. “A doctor?”

“Yeah, he wants to talk to you, Dad.”

“A doctor just called?” he asks, getting up. “Why would—“

“He wants to talk.”

Again, Robin’s brow furrows as he takes the phone, and as soon as he takes it, Roland takes a few step backs, like he’s guilty of something. “Don’t move.”

“But—“

“Stay,” he murmurs, narrowing his eyes. “Hello?”

“Robin? This is Doctor Archibald Hopper. You’re on the air with—“

“Seriously?” he cuts in, his eyes shooting to Roland. “You called a radio shrink?”

“He said he could help,” Roland murmurs back, avoiding eye contact. “Gus says—“

“Gus?”

“My friend from school,” Roland says, his eyes widening a little. “He’s in my Cub Scouts group.” Robin’s brow creases. “We had him over for pizza last week.”

“Ooh, oh. That kid. Oh. Okay, so Gus thinks I need to talk to a radio shrink?”

“Robin? Are you there? You’re live on the air.”

“Please, dad?” Roland asks, his voice suddenly softer. “I could help.”

Robin swallows, watching as Roland bats his eye lashes at him—and drawing the phone back up, he takes a breath. “Yes, I’m here.”

“Your son called—“

“I’m aware.”

“—because he’s concerned.”

Robin looked to Roland. “He’s concerned?”

“About you.”

“My son is concerned about me.”

“Yes,” the Doctor says—and then his voice shifts. “For those of you just joining us we have a caller on the line from Seattle, who struggles with sleeping.”

“I don’t struggle with sleeping.”

“Yes, you do, Dad.”

Robin’s brow furrows. “How do you know?”

“I live here.”

His eyes press closed, and the doctor continues filling him in on what Roland’s already told him. He tells him that this is a normal part of mourning and that deep wounds take time to heal, but sometimes, people need a little outside help to heal them and that it’s easier to heal when you’re not alone, and he bristles—but before he can snap, Roland looks up at him with wide testy eyes, mouthing a silent please that makes him stay on the line.

“I have people—my sister and her girlfriend,” Robin says. “I’m not alone. I go to work and I see people and talk to them and then I come home and run around between the twenty activities my son’s involved in. I talk to other parents and I listen to their problems and I give them advice, and then I come home and have dinner with my son—and usually my sister—and then I go to bed and I wake up and do it all over again.” He pauses and takes a breath, trying to keep his annoyance in check. “So I’m not alone. I’m never alone.”

“It sounds like you’re just going through the motions.”

“Isn’t that what I’m supposed to do? Just keep going?”

The doctor pauses. “Not if you never get to the root of the problem.”

Heat rises up the back of his neck and his eyes burn with tears—but when he looks to Roland, he’s looking at him in a way that makes it hard to be upset. So, he swallows hard and then responds. “I know what the problem is. The problem is that my wife died.”

“Have you talked to anyone about that?”

“You mean a shrink?”

“I mean someone who can help you work through your feelings.”

“So, a shrink.” There’s a long pauses and Roland sighs. “No,” he says, thinking about all of the times someone tried to casually recommend a therapist and how each and every recommendation had been shot down with a sarcastic reply. “I’ve never felt the need to seek professional help.”

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t think it’d help.”

“I disagree.”

“You’re paid to disagree.”

“Dad,” Roland hisses. “Try.”

“So, you were… really in love with her. You’re right. That isn’t easy to get over. It can take months, years even to just feel—“

“To just feel,” he repeats, again swallowing the lump in his throat. “I try to avoid that.”

“Feeling isn’t a bad thing.”

“Isn’t it?” he asks. “I mean—we had a pretty hard time, at first, with the feelings and the memories and—“ He stops. “We’re dealing with it, though. We’re taking it one day at a time. Some days are easier than others. Like yesterday,” he says, unsure of why he suddenly feels so compelled to talk to this stranger. “Yesterday was a good day and I felt guilty about it. So did Roland.”

“It’s okay to have good days.”

“I barely thought of her.”

“That’s alright. You don’t have to think of her constantly. It’s okay to have days when you focus on the present, or even the future.”

“I’m afraid I’m going to forget her.”

Roland nods.

“Tell me about her.”

A little grin pulls onto his lips. “I tried this trick yesterday on my kid.”

“It’s not a trick,” the doctor says. “Did it help him?”

Again, Roland nods, so he admits to the doctor it did—and then again, as he looks up at the sparkling Christmas tree, he feels compelled to share.

“Marian was… she was beautiful and she made everything around her beautiful.” He clears his throat as it tightens. “Especially this time of year.”

“This is a hard time of year to miss someone.”

“It is,” he agrees, still looking at the tree. “But then, every day is.”

“So, what are you going to do about it?”

“Exactly what I have been doing. I’ll get out of bed every day and just… breathe until I don’t have to remind myself that that’s what I’m supposed to be doing. I’ll take care of my son and go to work, and just keep breathing.” He pauses and grins gently. “Or, as you put it, going through the motions.”

“Do you think there will ever be a time in your life when you can love again?”

“I don’t know,” he murmurs, his eyes narrowing as he looks to Roland. “Is… is that why my son called?”

“It was mostly about sleeping,” the doctor says, an unnerving little chuckle rising into his voice. “But he’s worried about your overall happiness.”

“Is he,” he says, looking at Roland who only offers a sheepish little grin. “What exactly did he say?”

“He said that he’s worried about growing up and leaving you alone, that if you don’t have him, you don’t have anyone.”

He blinks and looks away from Roland. He hadn’t known Roland thought things like that, and the realization makes his chest ache.

“When you think of the future, do you see yourself with someone?”

“Other than Marian?”

“Yes.”

“I—I don’t know. I’ve never really thought about it.”

“But do you picture yourself with someone?”

He swallows hard and his eyes press closed. “Yes,” he admits.

The admission has his eyes fill with tears and once again, the thought of moving on seems like such a betrayal.

“Have you tried.”

“No. It’s too soon.”

“Of course,” the doctor says emphatically. “So, tell me, what was it about your wife--”

“Marian.”

“What was it about Marian that made you fall in love with her?”

He smiles though his chest tightens. “It was… a million little things, but when you added them all up, it meant that we were meant for each other.” For a moment, he stops as memories of those first few months with Marian flooded him. “I know from the very first time I touched her. It was like coming home, but to a home I’d never known. I was just… taking her hand to help her out of a car, and I… I just knew.”

“How?”

He feels tears brimming in his eyes. “I… I don’t know exactly,” he says, clearing his throat in an attempt to keep his tears at bay. “It was like… magic?”

Again, there’s a long pause and again, he gets lost in his memories. Then, the next thing he knows Doctor Hopper is explaining to him--or maybe to the show’s listeners--that they were going to take a quick commercial break, and then continue on with the show.

Awkwardly, he puts the phone on speaker and sets it down on the coffee table before sitting down beside Roland on the couch. “So, this is… something you worry about?” he asks. “About me being alone.”

Roland nods. “And you not sleeping.”

“Ah--”

“Gus heard the show before. The doctor helped some guy get over his fear of spiders.”

Robin blinks. “Oh.”

“So, I thought maybe he could help you, too.” Roland chews at his lip. “Are you mad?”

“Mad? No…” Robin murmurs, his voice piquing as he tries to tamp down his annoyance, reminding himself that Roland only has his best interest at heart. “Is this… nearly over?”

A tight grin spreads across Roland’s lips. “The next part is Listener Response.”

“What’s that?”

Roland’s face scrunches. “People get to call in and tell you how to fix your problem.”

“Ohh. That’s… that’s even better,” he sighs. “This is fun, and… and so helpful.”  
  


Awkwardly, Roland shifts and looks away, once more reminding himself that his son is child whose reasoning skills aren’t fully developed and getting mad at him won’t solve anything--and with any luck, the show will be over shortly and he can forget that it ever happened.

_____

December 25, 1992- Greenwich, Connecticut:

Sitting at the table with her face in her hands, Regina stares at the radio. Tears are brimming in her eyes as she listens to a man she doesn’t know explain all of the things that made his wife so special, and how he can’t ever imagine finding that again--after all, a once-in-a-lifetime love only happens once in a lifetime.

She was in tears listening to this stranger—with his soft voice and gentle words—and in her entire life, she'd never experienced the feelings that he described. Outside of her son, she wasn’t sure she’d ever loved anyone the way this man loved his wife, and her heart ached for him.

And what was worse was that his six year-old son had been the one to call into the show.

The boy’s name was Roland and he spoke with a newly-there lisp indicative of missing front teeth. He explained that earlier that year his mother had died from an aggressive cancer— _one day she was here and the next day she was gone_ —and ever since then, he and his dad had been struggling.

The little boy went onto explain that his aunts had been helping a lot, and when his aunts were there, everything seemed as normal as it could be—but then, when they left and when he was supposed to be in bed, his father always seemed so sad. The doctor told him that was normal, especially after such a significant loss, and the boy confessed he thought his dad was getting worse instead of better.

Then, in a heart wrenching confession, the little boy asked what would happen to his dad when he was gone and not there to take care of him any more. He feared that his dad would be alone and sad forever.

It’d been at that point the doctor suggested that, maybe in time, the boy’s father could find someone else, someone he could eventually marry—and when he asked the boy how that would make him feel, the boy surprisingly admitted that he’d be relieved. A new girlfriend might be awkward at first and would certainly be an adjustment, but his parents had been the sort of couple that did everything together— _she was his best friend, she was his whole world_ — and he wanted that for his dad again.

By the time the boy put his father on the phone, she was invested—and in tears—and the apple pie she was supposed to be making for that evening’s dessert was nearly forgotten.

_We were never really apart after we got together, the man explains._

_Baseball games with our son, hikes on Sunday mornings, road trips that didn’t have an end destination. She made everything an adventure, even just something as simple as a trip to the grocery store._

Regina sighs and swallows back her tears—she’s never been an emotional person, at least, not in this way. She wasn’t the type to cry at a movie or be overly sentimental with anyone other than her son, but there was something about the way this man spoke, something about the woman he described, that made her feel.

It was silly, and she knew it, to be so affected by this, but here she was, and she wasn’t sure how to deal with it.

Reaching for an apple, she skims a knife under the first layer of its skin as she listens to the man explain the elaborate bedtime stories his wife would tell his son, creating farway, mythical lands that are so vivid they never actually helped his son to sleep.

She laughs at that, thinking of Henry and how bedtime stories never worked for him either—but still, she always read to him, then in the middle of the night would find him, sitting by his nightlight and playing out something from the story with his stuffed animals and action figures.

“Regina, where—“

“Shhhh!”

Mal’s brow arches. “Daniel was wondering where you’d disappeared to. You said you'd be back in fifteen minutes and—“

“I’m making dessert. I told him that.”

“For an hour?”

She blinks as she continues to peel the apple. “I’m listening to a program on the radio and I got weirdly invested and—“

_She could peel an apple in one long, curly strand._

Mal’s brow arches. “Sounds like he’s talking about you.”

“Hardly.”

Mal nods to the curled apple peel hanging from the bottom of the apple. “Really?”

“He’s… talking about his wife.”

“Oh—“

“She died and—“

“That’s so sad.”

“His son called into this radio therapist, and—“ She sighs as she thinks of it. “And I am sitting here… feeling envious of a widower.”

“Envious,” Mal repeats, sitting down. “What do you mean?”

“This man is so in love with her and his son is this precious little thing who wants his dad to smile again and be able to sleep through the night and—“ She shakes her head. “All I can think of is how I have no idea what it’s like to love someone that much.”

“You love Henry that much.”

“I’m talking about romantic love, Mal.”

Mal shrugs. “There’s someone out there for you.”

“You always say that, but—“

“But maybe he’s not the man sitting in the living room right now.”

Regina blinks. “I love him, but—” She stops and her eyes press closed. “When I listen to this man on the radio talking about how much he loved his wife, I just… I don’t think I’m capable of that.”

“Regina—“

“Maybe love is different for different people.”

“Maybe this is a sign.”

“A sign?” Regina sighs. “Mal—“

“Maybe it's a sign you shouldn’t settle. From the start, there’s been something off about this whole thing with you and Daniel.”

“Maybe I’m what’s off about it.”

Mal’s eyes roll. “You can’t always be the problem.”

“My mother would disagree.”

“Your mother’s opinion doesn't count.”

“Again,” Regina says, laughing softly. “My mother would disagree.”

Mal’s eyes narrow. “So, if you were to choose someone for yourself. What would you choose?”

“I don’t know,” Reigna admits. “I… I’ve never really thought about it.”

“Maybe that’s the real problem.”

Regina's brow arches. “So, the problem is me.”

“No, I didn’t say that. What I said was that maybe the problem is that you’ve never let yourself consider what you wanted. It’s always been about what someone else wanted.”

“With Leo, maybe, but—“

“Regina, it’s okay not to have an answer and it’s okay not to want the perfectly nice man who is interested in you.”

“I should want him, though, and… and sometimes I think I do.”

“Well, wouldn’t those words make for heartfelt wedding vows.”

“Who said anything about vows?”

Mal’s brow arches. “You know very well that he bought a ring.”

“That doesn’t mean it's an engagement ring, or even that it’s for me.”

“You… you’re really something, you know that?” Mal says, reaching for one of the apples. “I know you don’t believe in signs or fate or anything like that, but usually you won’t deny something that’s—“

“We don’t know anything about that ring. It’s not fact. It’s assumption.”

“Why else would he buy a ring?”

Regina shrugs. “I don’t know, but there are other possibilities other than that it’s an engagement ring. We’ve only been dating for a few months, that—“

“It’s been almost a year.”

“Right. So… months.”

“Oh my god, this is like talking to a wall.”

Regina laughs softly and grins. She enjoys getting under Mal’s skin this way. “Look, all I’m saying is that… I have time to figure it out.”

“Do you?”

“Maybe love isn't this instantaneous thing for everyone. For some people it’s a spark when you touch them or… or heart eyes or whatever when you first see them, but—” Her voice trails off as she remembers the man on the radio explaining how he knew he and his wife were meant to be together the very first time he held her hand. “For some people, maybe its… its a steady build.”

“A steady build. That sounds romantic.”

“Not everything has to be romantic.”

“Again, more material for those vows.”

Regina’s eyes roll. “Maybe its— it’s a million little things,” she says, grimacing when she realizes she’s quoting Robin—the man from the radio, who apparently, she was on a first name basis with—and using his own description of fated love to disprove it. “A million little things that when you add them all up mean you’re meant to be with someone.”

Mal sighs as she reaches for the second paring knife sitting on the cutting board in front of Reigna. “Okay, that’s a good line, I’ll give you that.”

“It is a good line,” Regina murmurs, thinking of all the things that came after it.

“And who knows? Maybe you’re onto something with that. Maybe the two of you will grow old together and become one of those cute old couples that finishes each other sentences and steals each other’s thoughts.”

At that, Regina looks up, looking pointedly at Mal as if she wants to reply—rebuke, really—but she can’t, and instead she finds herself thinking something rather odd, and something that catches even her off guard.

She finds herself thinking that maybe Mal is right—maybe they could be one of those thought-stealing old couples, but ‘they’ doesn’t mean her and Daniel.


	5. Chapter 5

January 4, 1993- Seattle, Washington:

“Dad! Dad, look!”

Robin looks up from the stove, his eyes widening as he watches Roland waddle into the house carrying an armful of mail, giggling ecstatically.

“Dad, look at all these letters!”

“When I said _get the mail_ , I just mean our mail, Roland. Not the whole neighborhood’s.”

“This is all ours!”

Robin blinks as he reaches for the salt. “That’s not possible.”

“It is possible. They’re all addressed to you.”

“Me—“

“I think they’re all from ladies who want to date you.”

“And why would would you think I something like that?”

“Because all of these are from ladies.”

“Oh,” Robin murmurs, nodding. “And how do these ladies know where I live?”

Roland shrugs. “Well, I told them.”

Looking up quickly, Robin blinks. “Excuse me?”

“Yeah, when the radio show called—“

“And how did they have our phone number?”

“You have to give it to them when you call. Otherwise, they won’t talk to you on any of the radio shows.”

“Oh, oh, of course,” Robin says, looking down the Hamburger Helper and grimacing. “And, just out of curiosity, when they called and asked for our address, why didn’t you ask me before giving it out?”

Roland shrugs as he drops the armful of letters down on the coffee table. “Because I knew you’d say no.”

“Ah—“

“The mail lady says there’s a whole bin of these at the post office and if you’re going to be getting this much mail, you gotta pick it up yourself or set up a PO Box.”

“Oh, right… what was I thinking?”

“She said we can pick it up on Thursday. They’re open late that day.”

“Good to know,” Robin sighs, dipping his finger into the sauce and sprinkling in a little salt.

“Some of these are really funny, dad.”

“I’m sure they are.”

“This lady include pictures of her cats.”

“How many does she have?”

“Ten.”

“Oh, good. I’m glad it’s a healthy amount. If she had eleven, that would just be weird.”

Roland giggles. “She says she’ll bring her RV up to see you.”

Robin’s eyes widen. “I… don’t think you should be reading those.”

“This one included a description of what she thinks you look like and—oh.“

“Roland, stop reading!”

Giggling again, Roland looks up—and he watches as his son’s eyes widen. For a moment, he wonders if he’s going to have to have some sort of uncomfortable conversation about human anatomy, but then Roland points to the stove.

“Dad, I don’t think that’s supposed to have  _that much salt_ ,” Roland says, grimacing as he watches salt flowing freely into the saucepan. “Gus’ mom says—“

“Shit.”

“Well, not  _that_ ,” Roland replies. “But she says salt is bad for your heart.” He shrugs. “That’s why Gus says his mom’s food doesn’t taste good.”

“Well, Gus’s mom and I have that in common,” Robin says, looking down at the Hamburger Helper mix. “Your aunts would be so disappointed in me.”

“We could always go to their apartment for dinner. Ruby always makes too much.”

He shakes his head. “No, I… I think they need a little alone time.”

“Ahh—“

Robin frowns. “Don’t  _ahhh_ at that.” Roland giggles and reaches for a pink envelope. “I just think...we need to… depend less on them.”

“That makes sense,” Roland says, nodding as he leans toward the envelope. “This smells like old lady perfume.”

“Don’t open it,” Robin says, sighing as he turns off the heat and looks aimlessly around the kitchen. “I don’t want it triggering your asthma.”

“Yeah,” Roland agrees. “I don’t want you dating someone who triggers my asthma.”

“Roland,” he begins, turning slowly toward his son. “I… I am not going to be dating anyone for quite a while.”

Roland grins. “That’s improvement.”

“It’s—”

“Did it help talking to Doctor Hopper?”

“Who’s—“ He stops as he reaches the living room, leaning against the back of the couch. “Oh, right. The radio shrink you called.”

“Did it help?”

He sighs. “It was… nice talking about your mom,” he admits. “It was nice remembering all of the things that made her special.” Reaching out, he tips up Roland’s chin. “And it was good to know how you’d been feeling.”

“So it did help.”

“A little.”

Roland grins, selecting another envelope and before he can warn against it, Roland has it open. “This lady is from Tulsa.”

“Oklahoma?”

Blinking, Roland looks up at him. “Is that where Tulsa is?”

“Yes,” Robin sighs. “If you’re… if you’re going to go through those, how about we stick to the ones in the general area. You know, people who wouldn’t need a plane to come to dinner.”

“It says she’s willing to travel.”

“Of course she is.”

“It says she’d go anywhere for you.”

Robin nods. “So, like I said, how about we limit it to people who are local and… don’t sound crazy, hm?” He laughs as Roland tosses the letter aside. “Besides, just like I keep telling you and your aunts, I’m not really ready to date.”

Roland nods as he tries to select another envelope. “It's good to have options though, dad.”

“Options—”

“Yeah, that’s why Gus doesn't want a girlfriend. He doesn’t want to get tied down.”

Robin’s brow furrows. “I’m not sure how I feel about this Gus kid.” Roland shrugs, finally settling on another letter. “Hey,” Robin says, reaching for him and plucking him up from the couch and holding him up by the arms, smiling as Roland giggles. “How about we forget the Hamburger Helper and go out for real burgers?”

“Yeah!’

“Okay,” Robin laughs, setting him back down. “Go and grab your coat while I… discard my failed attempt at a meal.”

Quickly, he cleans up the counter and tosses the meat sauce into the garbage—and as he reaches for the box of lasagna flavored Hamburger Helper, he sighs, remembering the first time Marian made him dinner. That, too, had been a bit of a culinary disaster, but unlike him, she’d managed to pull it together to make his favorite dish—and as he looked to the pile of letters on the table, he found himself thinking that he had no right to ever assume he’d get that lucky twice in one lifetime.

“Dad, I got your coat,” Roland calls, snapping him back into the present moment. “I brought your scarf, too,” he says. “It’s really cold out there.”

“Thanks, son,” he murmurs as he comes into the living room to take the coat—and as soon as Roland’s hands are free, he scoops up a pile of letters and tucks them into his coat pocket. “Roland, what are you doing?”

“I thought we could read some at dinner.”

“Oh… oh good. A meal and entertainment.”

Roland grins and nods, giggling as Robin’s eyes roll.

_____

January 4, 1993- Greenwich, Connecticut:

Regina grins as Henry she comes into the living room, immediately noticing. Henry is perched at the window sill, watching the snow fall.

Already there’s a thick blanket covering the lawn and the sidewalk, and though it’s been a little more than an hour since Daniel arrived, his car is barely noticeable under the snow—in fact, it simply looks like there’s a little hill in the center of her driveway.

“Alright, here we go,” Daniel says, coming into the living room and joining Henry at the window. “Hot cocoa—extra whipped cream and extra cinnamon.”

Her heart warms as Daniel hands Henry an oversized mug meant for soup.

“You remembered!”

Daniel nods. “I’m going to try it myself.”

Henry grins. “It’s good. The cinnamon gives it a nice little kick.”

Daniel's eyes slide too Regina. “Usually I use something else to give my cocoa a little kick, but I’m always interested in keeping options open and available.”

“I prefer those other options,” Regina says, grinning.

“I made you a cup, too,” Daniels says. “With another option in it.”

Henry’s eyes roll. “I know you’re talking about alcohol. You don’t have to make up cute little names for it.”

Her eyes roll and Daniel laughs—and she appreciates his consideration. Of course, Henry was well aware that she drank. She and Mal liked their wine, and he’d seen her pour a glass of something stronger after too many fights with his father. But she appreciated the consideration.

“So, if you’re out here with us, does that mean you’re done?”

She grins and nods, a little wave of relief washing over her. “My article is done and I’ve sent it to my editor,” she confirms.

“What was it on, again?” Henry asks, looking up from his hot cocoa with a serious expression but a whipped cream mustache. “I don’t—” He frowns when both she and Daniel laugh. “What?”

“You’ve, uh… got a little…” Daniel wipes his hand over his own upper lip. “So, you might want to—“

“Ohh,” Henry murmurs, laughing out as he bats his hand over his mouth—and then, as he drops his hand away, Daniel’s arm looks around his shoulders and he tossels Henry’s hair.

To her surprise, Henry just laughs. He doesn’t look uncomfortable and he doesn’t pull away.

She feels a soft fluttering in her chest as she watches them. Daniel is so sweet with her son. Over the course of the past few months, one of the things that’s warmed her to Daniel is the way he interacts with Henry—interacting with him in ways that Leopold never did. He knows when to be patient and when to be silly; he knows when to be firm and serious, and when to step back and allow her to handle things.

“Is your homework done?” she asks, looking to Henry. “I know you’re still on break, but—“

“I am still on break, Mom. I have time.”

“I’m pretty sure I saw some intense looking directions about some American Revolution project sticking out from the top of your school bag.”

Henry frowns, but Daniel brightens. “I love the American Revolution.”

“I don’t,” Henry murmurs, looking to him.

“My great-great-great-great… uh, great…” Daniel pauses, lost in the lineage. “Well, someone I am distantly related to served with George Washington.”

“Oh, that’s cool!” Henry turns to face her. “Did we have any relatives that fought in the American Revolution, Mom?”

“Uh, no,” she murmurs, shifting toward them and sitting down on an arm chair across from them. “But I think someone on your grandmother’s side had a sister who was burned at the stake or something like that in Salem.”

Henry blinks. “Oh, that’s… that’s way less cool.”

“Figures,” she says dismissively. “Why don’t you go get your history folder and we’ll take a look at what you need to do and see if we can get started.”

Henry frowns but Daniel nudges him. “Yeah, come on, it'll be fun.”

“You say that now…”

Daniel laughs. “We’ll do it together, okay? I love this kind of stuff, and I miss it.”

Henry looks absolutely dumbfounded. “You miss the fifth grade?”

“Sure! Who wouldn’t miss recess and coloring sheets and getting to make cool stuff.”

“I’m not sure Paul Revere’s ride counts as cool.”

“Oh, it absolutely does,” Daniel says, half scoffing and half laughing. “You know about the candles… in the windows…” Henry blinks, obviously clueless. “Two if by land, one if by sea…”

“I had the flu the week we talked about that.”

“Oh..”

Regina’s brow arches. “You know that’s not an excuse.”

“I know,” Henry sighs, looking briefly to her then back to Daniel. “You’ll really help?”

“I’ll really help—and I mentioned the candle thing because I’m going to teach you how to make a light switch out of some tacks, a paper clip- and a battery.”

“If my child ends up with an electrical burn—”

“That sounds really cool!”

“I promise, Regina,” Daniel says, holding up his hands as he looks to her. “Your baby boy will come out of this project unscathed.”

“I’m going to go get my binder!”

Regina laughs as Henry abandons his cocoa and runs toward the stairs—and when he’s out of view, she looks toward Daniel. “I can’t believe you convinced him to do this project. I am sure you are completely unaware of the fight you’ve saved me from and —“

“Really, it’s no trouble. I love this kind of thing.”

Regina nods, drawing in a breath as her eyes shift briefly to the accumulating snow outside. “Well, that’s good, especially given that you seem to be stranded here.”

Daniel looks to the window then back to her. “Yes, it… it appears I am.”

“So, um… you can help Henry with his project and then… tonight I can properly thank you for it.”

“Really Regina, you don’t—“ He stops, laughing at himself. “Ah.”

Getting up, she goes to him, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek. Then, as soon as her lips touch his cheek, he turns and reaches up, pulling her into a kiss.

Daniel grins as he pulls back, offering her a sweet grin as he lets her go. She smiles back and tells him that she’s going to go get the cocoa he made for her and find the hot glue gun, and as she walks back toward the kitchen, she finds herself wishing that she felt something when he kissed her.


	6. Chapter 6

  * February 13, 1993- Seattle, Washington:

“Thanks for picking Roland up,” Robin says, bristling a little as he comes into the house. “Apparently picking out where a bay window should go is the single most hardest thing Mary Margaret Nolan will ever have to decide.” He sighs as he unzips his coat. “Apparently her son’s future hinges on the placement of one nursery window.”

“Be nice,” Belle warns, grinning as she looks back at him. “She’s my friend.”

“Was her friend, Emma, there with her?” Ruby asks. “She was supposed to be.”

Robin blinks. “Uh… no?”

“Oh–”

“There was a painter and her husband came by and–”

“Pretty, blonde–”

“Usually wears a red jacket–”

His eyes narrow. “Oh–” And as their eye light up hopefully, he grimaces. Emma showed up just as he was leaving. Mary Margaret tried to introduce them, but he’d offered little more than a wave as he walked out, murmuring something as he walked past her about being late to pick up his son. “Oh.”

“Were you rude?” Belle asks pointedly. “Please tell me–”

“No. I… I was brisk. I thought I was late to pick up Roland.”

“So… did you think she was pretty?”

“She was… agreeable.”

“Robin!”

“I literally brushed past her on the way down the front steps. I didn’t see her.”

He watches and Belle and Ruby exchange a look, and then when their eyes shift back to him, they both smile in a way that makes him a bit uneasy.

“So, the reason Mary Margaret was being so particular–”

“Isn’t because she’s a pain in the ass?”

Belle’s eyes roll. “We thought that… maybe you and Emma–”

“I’m not ready.”

“Robin–”

“It’s been a year,” Belle says. “And you–”

“No,” Robin says, shaking his head. “It’s been ten months and–”

“You said you were open to dating again.”

“I said  _eventually_ I  _might_ be,” he says, looking to Ruby for assistance. “I’m not ready.” Taking a breath, Belle stands up and crosses the room to where he stands–and he knows a lecture is coming. “I know you’re trying to help, and I appreciate that, just as I’ve appreciated everything the two of you have done for Roland and me, but….the thought of getting into something serious…”

“That’s just it. It’s  _not_ something serious. But it’ll get you back out there, warm ya up a bit.”

His brows arch as he looks at his sister. “Are you suggesting I use your friend for a weekend special at a Holiday Inn?”

“No,” Ruby sighs as she gets up from the couch. “That’s not what she meant.”

“Then what did she mean? Because–”

“I meant that you need to get back out there,” Belle says, letting her voice rise over his. “I meant that you need to interact with someone you’re not related and not  _paid_ to interact with.”

He bristles because he knows she’s right. “I… interact with…”

“Who?”

“Robin,” Ruby says as she joins them. “You’re young. You’re good looking and charming and–”

“Are you pitching me to… myself?”

Both Belle and Ruby roll their eyes as he folds his arms over his chest indignantly, digging in his heels similar to the way Roland does when he decides he’s not going to bed or doesn’t feel like showering–and suddenly, he feels like he’s twelve years old again, arguing with his little sister about something ridiculous, but something they’ll never convince the other of.

He’s not entirely why he’s so opposed to the idea. He’s all but admitted he’d like to find someone again, but wanting something and doing something are very different things. In his head, it’s getting easier to picture himself with someone–meeting someone at the market or in an elevator, feeling something and taking a risk by offering his number, then anxiously wondering if she’ll actually call–but the thought of actually sitting across from someone at dinner, the thought of making small talk and giving the most condensed version of his life over appetizers still doesn’t sit well with him.

“Robin, Marian wouldn’t want you to hide away from the world. She wouldn’t want your life to…” Belle stops, giminacing at whatever thing she was about to say, and her cheeks flush slightly causing heat to rise up the back of his neck and anger to bubble up in his chest as he fills in the blank she’s left.

“Look, it doesn’t have to be Emma. We just think you two would get along. She’s not looking for anything serious–”

“What? So, just a hookup? That’s… that’s not really my thing.”

“Go to dinner. Eat some good food. Talk to her. See if you like her.” Ruby grins gently as she reaches out and presses her hand to his arm. “If you don’t, you don’t, but at least your feet will be wet. The next time will be easier.”

For a moment, he considers it. “Emma is a friend of yours?” They both both nod in unison. “And, as her friend, you’re… just offering her up as bait?”

“Bait is a little strong of a word,” Belle sighs.

“If it doesn’t work out, it doesn’t work out. We wouldn’t want either of you to force anything, but…”

“…if it does work out…”

“We just think you two  _could_ work.”

Looking between them, he sighs, feeling his resolve wearing thin, and a little voice at the back of his head–the same voice that pushed him to open up to that radio therapist, the same voice that made him admit that maybe in the future he could see himself in a relationship again, that same voice that told him that he was too reliant on Belle and Ruby and that he didn’t want to ever grow to be a burden or a roadblock for his son–told him that maybe he could go to dinner with this person, maybe he could like her, maybe he could even love her.

And if not her, someone.

“So… this Emily…”

“Emma.”

“Right,” he sighs, stepping around them and reaching for an apple. “Tell me about her.”

“Okay,” they say together.

“She’s… very independent.”

“Yeah, her parents died when she was little. She grew up in the system and now she’s a cop,” Ruby explains.

“She just got out of a long-term relationship and–”

“Why did it end?”

Ruby’s eyes roll. “First of all, his name was Walsh–”

“He was a trust fund baby,” Belle explains. “They were just… not compatible.”

“Not compatible–” he repeats, his eyes narrowing. “Why is that?”

“She likes her own space. She’s not the clingy type. She’s not very domestic–”

“She’s a grilled cheese and tomato soup kind of girl and he was–”

“–the type of person who orders eel.”

For some reason, that makes him grin.

“She likes… adventure-type stories.”

Belle laughs as she looks to Ruby. “What she means is she’s a Hemingway fan–”

“As am I.”

“She’s always looked for a family to join–”

“–and I am a family man.”

“She likes beer and going to breweries, and she loves a good hike–”

Drawing in a breath, he feels his heart beating faster and faster while his stomach churns. “Fine.”

“Fine–”

“I’ll… let you set me up.”

Their eyes widen as they exchange excited looks. He shakes his head when one of them lets out a little squeal and he laughs when they both rush toward him for a hug–and then, just as his stomach starts to settle, Belle reveals that she’s already made reservations for the following night at a little Italian place that she and Ruby frequent.

And then, as they start to tell him about the tiramisu, he comes to the realization that the following day is Valentine’s Day, the absolute worst day of the year for a blind date, and he can’t help but think it’s some sort of omen.

_____

February 13, 1993- Greenwich, Connecticut:

Regina stares into her closet, trying to figure out what dress she’ll wear the following evening for her dinner date with Daniel, and of course, everything that hangs in her closet seems all wrong.

She sighs as she turns back to the bed, sitting down and flopping back, staring down at the ceiling and wishing at the start of the school year, she’d signed up to chaperone the Valentine’s party at Henry’s school because had she done that, she wouldn’t have to go to dinner with Daniel–and then, as soon as she thinks that, she chides herself for being such a terrible person.

It isn’t Daniel’s company that she wants to avoid; it’s simply the holiday.

First, she’d never been a fan of Valentine’s Day. To her, it was made up holiday meant to sell cards and boost floral sales in the middle of winter, nothing something really worth celebrating. Of course, when she was married to Leopold, he always made a big show of Valentine’s Day; but, really, it was just that–a show. He’d send her candy and flowers and everyone in her office would tell her how lucky she was. Then, he’d take her out to some expensive restaurant and show her off, like she was some sort of trophy.

Daniel wasn’t Leopold, though; in fact, Daniel was the exact opposite of her ex, and if he were to send her something at work or take her out that evening, the gestures would be sincere.

But that was what she was afraid of.

Ever since she found the receipt from the jeweler, she’d be waiting for him to propose. But they’d gotten through Christmas and then through the new year, and still, he hadn’t asked–and for a few weeks, she relaxed and stopped worry about it. Then, he’d asked her out for Valentine’s Day and her worries came flooding back to her.

In her head, she tried to work out a response, but no matter what, she couldn’t seem to come up with one. Her feelings about the whole thing were murky at best–and sometimes when she thought about it, she thought about what it’d be like to say yes. It’d be easier, and it wasn’t like she wouldn’t be happy with him. She and Daniel could build a life together that was based on companionship and respect. They could raise Henry together and join an equestrian club, they could have family dinners and plan vacations, they could have a life that she knew many women in her former social circle would envy. They might not have passion, but maybe, they had something better than that.

That, of course, led her to another set of questions–questions she’d never actually find answers to. She wondered if somewhere along the line she’d resent the lack of passion she felt, and she wondered where that resentment might lead. She didn’t like to go there and she rarely allowed her thoughts to wander down that path, but when she did, she didn’t like what she saw and she didn’t like her person she was. So, in the end, she wondered if saying no was really the best option for both of them, wondering if it would hurt less to turn him down now rather than after years of complacency in marriage.

Two nights before, Mal and Lily came over for dinner, and while Lily and Henry played Zelda in the living room, she and Mal sat down at the kitchen table and they’d made a list of pros and cons. Mal rolled her eyes at the notion, telling her that matters of the heart couldn’t be resolved by  _taking notes_ , but she ignored her and insisted–then, by the end of it, she was no better off than she was before. She had no new solutions, no new insights and was still just as confused as ever.

Rolling over, she turns on the radio–and when she hears  _The Best of Doctor Hopper_  playing, she holds her breath and waits.

She smiles at the sound of the now-familiar voice and she can practically recite the little speech he gave about the first time he met his wife, and still, it strikes her that he knew they were meant to be together based on one fleeting touch.

“Uh, mom?”

Gasping, she sits up, looking at Henry with wide eyes as if he’s caught her doing something she shouldn’t be doing. “Henry, is… is everything okay?”

“I can’t sleep,” he says, shrugging as he comes into the room. “I saw your light was still on.”

“Yeah,” she murmurs. “I was just trying to pick out a dress for tomorrow.”

“Oh…”

“Wanna help?” Grinning, Henry nods and crosses the room to the bed, hoisting himself up to sit beside her then, for a moment, they both just stare into the closet. “So, what do you think? Which dress do you like?”

“You should wear the red one.”

“The red one? Why?”

Henry blinks. “Because it’s Valentine’s Day and that’s the color you’re supposed to wear.”

Regina’s brows arch. “That was… easy.”

“Some things aren’t hard,” Henry says, shrugging and leaning into her side. “Lily said she and I are going to eat so much candy tomorrow, we’re going to puke.”

“And you’re looking forward to this?”

“Not the puking part, but… yeah, I’m looking forward to the candy.” Henry pauses for a moment, looking up at her before looking to the radio. “You listen to this a lot.”

“Yeah,” she nods. “I, um… I like this program.”

“You like this episode. You always listen to the same one.”

“Oh… well…”

“He has a nice voice.”

“Who does?”

“The man who really loves his wife.”

“Oh.. yeah… he, um, he does,” she murmurs, feeling an odd stirring in her chest as she leans in to press a kiss to Henry’s hair. “He sounds… nice.”

“He does,” Henry agrees. “I hope he finds someone.”

At that, her brows arch and she pulls herself back a little so that she can look at Henry. “You do?”

“Yeah,” Henry says simply. “Maybe then, he wouldn’t be so sad.”

“It’s not easy, you know… finding someone.”

“I know,” Henry murmurs. “Sometimes, it doesn’t work out. Like how it didn’t work with you and dad. But, sometimes, it does.”

“That's… awfully deep for a ten year old.”

Henry nods. “That’s what the radio therapist said in his last episode.”

“You… listen to this program?”

Henry shrugs and leans back into her. “You listen to it so much, I wanted to see what the fuss was about.”

“And what did you think of it?” she asks, laughing softly at the notion of her precious fifth grader listening to a radio therapist counsel adults on love.

“I think you should listen to more episodes.”

Again, she laughs as she presses another kiss to Henry’s head. “Yeah,” she agrees. “Maybe I should.”

 





	7. Chapter 7

February 17, 1993- Seattle, Washington: **  
**

Robin rings his hands as he sits in the booth, staring at the door and waiting for his date.

He cancelled a few days before, and really, he thought that Emma would call off the whole thing.

He felt a degree of guilt over using Roland as an excuse—saying that his son was sick and needed him at home, and though the excuse had sounded fake and flimsy to him, Emma didn’t argue with it. Instead, she said that she understood and that his son should always come first—and then, she confessed that she was feeling a little uncomfortable about that date, anyway. Valentine’s Day brought a certain amount of unnecessary pressure, suggesting that maybe later in  the week would be better for them both.

He was glad for the less formal setting and for the proximity to home. This was a place he and Roland went often, and several of the wait staff knew him well—and when he regretfully informed them that he was not dining with his son and confessed that he was actually meeting a woman for a date, they offered pats on the back and high fives and congratulatory wishes that momentarily set him at ease and made him that that maybe this wasn’t the worst idea.

But still, he was nervous and his stomach was in knots—and of course, the two conflicting voices in his head didn’t help the situation. One told him to get up and leave, that he wasn’t ready for this and it wasn’t fair to anyone involved to carry on with a date if there was no chance at something more developing, and the other voice told him it was just pizza and conversation, that if anything, it’d be good for him to be social.

The second voice was winning out when Emma came in to the pizza shop and a slight smile tugged on to his lips as he spotted her.

Ruby and Belle were right—Emma was pretty, though not typically his type. She had long blonde hair that was curled at the ends and the boots she wore made her seem taller than she really was. She wore tight, dark jeans and a red leather jacket over a tucked in what shirt, and as she came closer, she offered him an awkward little wave and a grin.

“Robin?”

“Yes,” he nods. “You’re Emma, then.”

Nodding, she slides into the booth across from him. “I am.”

“You, um… you obviously found the place alright.”

She nods. “Yes, your directions were… very clear.”

For a moment, neither of them says anything and then a little laugh bubbles out of him, and she laughs, too.

“I’m sorry,” he says, “I’m a bit rusty.”

“I am, too.”

“My sister mentioned that you just got out a relationship? I’m sorry—“

“I’m not,” she cuts in. “I just wish I’d gotten out sooner.” He nods. “I’m new in town and staying with some friends from college—“

“David and Mary Margaret,” he supplies. “I am the architect designing the addition on their house.”

“Oh, now I feel the need to apologize. They are so indecisive about every last detail.”

“So the bay window fiasco  _wasn’t_ an act to try to put us in each other’s orbit?”

“Not entirely. I was running late, but after you left, they had tape up the walls, still debating where the window should go.”

“Oh no,” he laughs. “It’s really not that serious.”

“When you called to cancel, they were still debating and I didn’t have the heart to tell you you’d probably spend Valentine’s Day redrawing the blueprints for the addition.” His brow furrows and she laughs again, “There’s a new discussion about a skylight,” she tells him. “They didn’t tell you yet?”

“No,” he sighs. “They probably haven’t committed to it yet or they’re afraid I’ll quit.”

“You might as well just design a room for a teenager—put the window by the tree so he can sneak out in the middle of the night. That seems most considerate.”

“Or he’ll simply have to stay a baby forever.”

“I am sure Mary Margaret would have no arguments about that.”

Leaning back against the booth, Robin grins—talking to Emma is easier than he thought it’d be.

The waitress comes and they order a pizza—settling on pepperoni and jalapeño peppers—and by the time the waitress bring their beers to the table, they’ve fallen into a conversation that’s only mildly uncomfortable.

She asks about his son—a topic he could stay on forever—and so he takes the opportunity to brag. Emma listens and nods along, smiling when she should at cute little anecdotes about the antics of a six year old. She admits that she likes kids, but isn’t sure that she wants them for herself, and when he apologizes for going on and on, she brushes it off, telling him she enjoyed listening and Roland seems like a sweet boy—and that earners her a couple of points in his book.

He shifts the conversation as the pizza arrives, talking about movies and books and TV shows. Outside of a few random things, they don’t have many of the same interests, but in some ways, that’s refreshing and gives them more to talk about—and when Emma suggests a film they could maybe watch together, he takes it as a good sign, and again feels himself relax.

By the time they’ve finished their pizza and ordered slices of cheesecake for dessert, he’s feeling more at ease. And while he’s not entirely sure of its something about her that he likes or something about talking to someone who isn’t his sister or his child, he does like it and he finds himself mentally preparing a list of possible date ideas.

He likes serious films, like documentaries or comedies that he can laugh at, while she prefers mysteries or horror films; he likes leisurely hikes while she prefers rock climbing. He seems himself as a family man while she is more of a loner who occasionally likes company, and they both avoid cooking for themselves whenever they can.

She laughs at that part, telling him she now understands why Ruby is always over, and he smiles and nods and pretends that that’s the real reason.

Their dessert comes as Emma confesses that she’s never even seen a horse up close and the idea of riding one terrifies her—so, naturally he adds horseback riding to his list.

They part ways after they eat, agreeing that they’d like to do something like this again. Emma pulls out her pocketbook and suggests a movie date, and he finds himself nodding in agreement as he adds dinner—and just like that, he has a second date planned.

He spends his walk home  weighing what this actually means, and by the time he arrives at his front door, he decides that it doesn’t really matter—the company is nice and he forgot how fun it could be just getting to know someone. Emma might not be someone he ended up with for a long time, but maybe that was the point—and maybe he’d spend the rest of his life with her.

That was the fun of it—the possibilities—and he’d completely forgotten how good it felt to have possibilities, to not have everything charted out and predetermined, to just see where life would take him.

In a lot of ways, Marian had been a wonderful surprise—they’d shared a cab ride on a particularly rainy day, and the only reason he’d been in that cab was because he’d lent his car to Belle so she could take a road trip to visit a friend from high school. By the end of that cab ride, he’d been convinced that he wanted to ask Marian out, and when he helped her out of the cab, he knew they’d have something special.

But that feeling hadn’t taken away from the spontaneity of it all—and maybe, he thought as he turned his key in the lock and braced himself for the onslaught of questions from Belle and Ruby that were sure to come as soon as the door opened—he really could get that lucky as second time… perhaps not with Emma, but someone.

Only time would tell, and for the first time in longer than he could remember, he was actually looking forward to uncertainty that lay ahead of him.

_____

February 17, 1993- Greenwich, Connecticut:

To her relief--and oddly, to her disappointment--Daniel did not propose to her on Valentine’s Day.

He’d taken her to a nice restaurant and they’d had a nice meal, and their dinner was filled with easy conversation. He seemed to sense her anxiety, so he kept things light. They’d gone into New York City for the evening, and he’d planned a walk in Central Part, but the rain foiled those plans, so instead, they rented a few movies and went back to the hotel, ordering ice cream and laying in bed, laughing until their sides hurt, thanks to Cary Grant and movies like Arsenic and Old Lace and Bringing Up Baby.

Daniel was out of town—some business meeting or something that came up a the last minute—so she invited Lily and Mal over to eat the meal she’d prepared. 

As always, Lily and Henry went off to play video games—this time, giggling together as they played Duck Hunt in his bedroom while she and Mal settled in the living room with a bottle of wine.

“You should stay the night.”

Mal’s brows arch. “We're not sixteen. We don’t do sleepovers anymore.”

Regina shrugs. “The kids are having fun and it’s sleeting and I want to watch old movies, but I don’t want to alone.”

Mal grins. “Sounds like you’re subbing me in for your boyfriend.”

Regina shrugs. “Or maybe I was subbing my boyfriend in for you. I’m not really sure he’d be into the movie I picked. It’s… kind of a chick flick.”

“What is it?”

“ _An Affair to Remember_. I’m… I’m kind of on a Cary Grant kick, so I got it and then I read the description.”

“That is  _absolutely_  a chick flick,” Mal says, nodding as she sighs. “I’ll stay if you give me ice cream.”

“Deal.”

“Do you have that snickerdoodle kind that—“

“That my kid is obsessed with? Of course.”

“Excellent. You get the ice cream and I’ll let Lily know we’re going to stay.” Getting up from the couch, she sighs. “I’m sure this will be an argument.”

“I've got some cookie dough, maybe that can sweeten the deal.”

“Maybe.”

“Henry is going to be thrilled, you know. He loves when Lily’s here… even if she doesn’t want to be.”

“Lily can move in, if you want. I swear, she’s no trouble at all… ever. She’s an absolute delight!”

Regina grins as she gets up. “I really do think she’s a delight.”

“That's because you’re not her mother so she likes you.”

“Things still rough after the smoking incident?”

Mal nods. “Rough is my new normal. This morning she and I got into a fight about eyeliner.”

“Was she wearing too much?”

“No,” Mal says, rolling her eyes. “I was, and apparently me dropping her off at school is embarrassing.”

At that, Regina giggles and shrugs, watching as Mal starts up the stairs.

She retreats into the kitchen and flicks on the radio before flicking on the oven—and all of the sudden the familiar voice of Doctor Archibald Hopper fills the room.

Grabbing the cookie dough from the refrigerator, she listens as he switches topics.

_I’m sure you all remember our most famous caller from Christmas Eve, a little boy from Seattle who was worried about his dad not sleeping and being alone…_

Looking up, she stares at the radio, listening more intently as she grabs a okie sheet from the drying Araceli and forms little balls of dough.

_...I say most popular because since Christmas hundreds of women have called in for his address—hundreds of concerned women who want to help—_

Regina’s eyes roll. “Yeah, help themselves into his bed,” she mutters.

_Several of you have reached out to check in on him, calling into the station for an update, and while I would love to talk to Sleepless in Seattle again, he has not answered any of my calls…_

“He has a name.”

“Who does?”

Regina looks up to see Mal standing in the kitchen. “Oh…”

“Is that that radio program again?”

Reigna nods. “They’re talking about Robin… about Sleepless in Seattle from…”

“Christmas.”

“Yeah? What are they saying?”

“Not much,” Regina says, lowering the volume dial so she can hear Mal, but not turning it down completely.  “People are curious about him—“

“People like you.”

For a moment, she just glares. “I suppose.”

“Women have been writing to him.”

At that, Mal’s brow arches. “Soo, you’ve got some competition.”

“No—“

“Regina, come on. It’s not wrong to be curious about him. You heard his story and you felt something—“

“It was a sad story, Mal.”

“I’m not saying that it wasn’t. I’m just saying you felt a connection—“

“That’s a bit strong.”

“Doesn’t mean it’s not true.”

“It’s ridiculous, Mal. I don’t know this man. I heard one story from his life, this one little thing—“

“This one huge thing.”

She shrugs. “Still, it was one thing that has to do with the life of a complete stranger.”

“So?”

“So… I… I’m involved with someone. Someone who is great and—“

“And you spend all of Valentine’s Day hoping wouldn’t propose to you.”

Regina bristles as she lops some Cookie dough onto the sheet. “I’m… I’m just not… not there I don’t want to rush things or—“

“Or maybe, despite the fact that you’re dating a great guy, he’s not the guy for you.” Regina’s shoulders square as she focuses on the cookies, trying to formulate some sort of zinger to reply with that’ll shut the conversation down. But before she can, Mal leans against the counter and completely derails her train of thought. “You should write to him.”

Regina's eyes widen. “You mean...write to…”

Mal’s eyes roll as Regina’s voice trails off. “To Sleepless in Seattle.”

“Robin.”

A grin twists onto her lips “Oh, so you’re a on a first name basis now?”

“Shut up.”

“No, I’m serious. You should write to him.”

“And sound like all the other crazy desperate women who want to bed him? No, thanks.”

“But you’re different.”

“Yeah,” Regina says, nodding as she spoons the last of the cookie dough onto the sheet. “I am different. I have a boyfriend. I shouldn't--”

“Regina--”

“Mal, this is insane. It’s unhealthy it’s--”

“You’re attracted to it. Admit it.”

“He’s a voice on the radio!”

“That you  _recorded_ so you could listen to him as a bedtime story.”

Regina’s eyes widen. “Oh god. Mal. I’m just as crazy and desperate as those other women. I’m--”

“Okay, okay, calm down,” Mal sighs, taking the cookie sheet from her and sliding it into the over and spinning the timer. “Let’s change the subject. We’ll get some wine and watch a movie, and forget what a psycho you are for a little bit.”

Regina pouts as Mal grabs her hand and a bottle of wine, dragging her back into the living room. Regina curls her legs underneath herself as Mal puts on the movie, and aside from a very short break to take the cookies out of the oven, she doesn’t move--instead, she gets too invested in the movie and finishes off a bottle of wine before the its even over, and all the while, she pictures herself waiting for Sleepless in Seattle--for Robin--on top of the Empire State Building, and how terribly romantic that would be.

She sighs as the credits roll, and when she looks over to Mal, she finds her curled up in the armchair beside her, asleep. “So much for a movie marathon,” she says, setting down her glass and feeling a little wobbly as she stands, moving toward Mal and carefully pulling away the carton of ice cream from her--and when she does, Mal curls into a tighter ball.

She takes the empty wine glasses, bottles and Mal’s now-empty carton of ice cream into the kitchen and sets the on the counter to be dealt with in the morning, and she grins as the handful of cookies left--Lily and Henry obviously came down for seconds, and maybe even thirds. She transfers the rest of the cookies onto a plate and puts the cookie sheet into the sink, again leaving it for morning to clean.

Turning off the light in the kitchen, she goes back to the living room to toss a blanket over Mal, then dims the light and heads up the stairs. She finds Lily and Henry curled up on Henry’s bed, video game controllers still in their hand and the music to Mario Brothers playing as Game Over flashes repeatedly on the TV screen on Henry’s dresser. She turns off the TV and kisses them both on the forehead, pulling away the controllers as she dims Henry’s lamp--and then as she retreats down the hall toward her bedroom, she realizes she’s not tired.

Biting down on her lip, she turns toward her office. For a moment, she just stood there, feeling a bit dizzy as she stared at her Macintosh--and then, drawing in a breath, she pushed herself toward, pressing her fingers to the keyboard to boot it up. Chewing at her lip, she watched as the computer started, and she held her breath as she opened up the Word Processor, then once it was open, all she could do was stare at it.

It was… like magic, she thinks, remembering the soft yet hesitant way he described that very first moment he knew that he was in love with his wife--and it made her heart ache in the best possible way.

Pulling out her chair, she sat down at the computer and started to type…

 _Dear Sleepless in Seattle_ , she types, grimacing as she looked at the words. They sounded so.... Impersonal. And then she rolled her eyes. How else would it sound, writing to someone who didn’t even know she existed.

_I’ve never done something like this before._

She blinks and rolls her eyes. “Of course, you haven’t--and neither has all the other psychos out there who are writing to him.” With a sigh, her head dips forward and her face falls into her hands, and she can’t do it--she can’t write this letter, much less send it. So, she powers down her computer and goes to sleep.


	8. Chapter 8

March 5, 1993- Seattle, Washington:

Roland grabs a bag of chips from the cupboard and flips down onto a bean bag chair in front of the TV, grabbing the first letter from a stack of new ones that arrived addressed to his father.

He reads the first couple of lines, quickly discarding it after he notices that it was literally sealed with a kiss and some lady’s lipstick was smeared all over the paper. He rolls his eyes as he grabs another letter, examining the envelope and grinning at the postage stamp bearing an apple hanging from a leafy branch. The envelope is nice, too, and he’s slowly discovered the best letters were the ones that came on pretty paper tucked into pretty envelopes--and this one is one of the prettiest.

“What are you doing in there?” Robin calls. “Hopefully not spoiling dinner!”

Guilty, Roland looks to the bag of chips and drops them down on the side of the bean bag. “Nope! I’m reading! For school!”

“Good! Your teacher said you were short on minutes last week.”

“I know, so I’m making up for it this week!”

“Good boy!”

Roland smiles proudly at the apple stamped letter and then pushes his fingers under the flap, once more examining the envelope and it’s metallic red border. The paper is nice, too--thick with the same red border that was on the envelope, and he’s impressed when he finds that this one is typed.

_Dear Sleepless in Seattle,_

_I’ve never done anything like this in my life._

_I first heard your story on Christmas when your son called into that radio show. My first thought was if my own son ever did something like that he’d be grounded until the end of eternity, but as I listened I started to understand. And, as a single mom, I found myself putting on your shoes and thinking about what it’d be like for me and my son if we were in the same situation._

_I am not entirely sure why I am writing to you, other than there was something about your story that spoke to me. Some might call it a sign-- a sign of what, I don’t know, but I’d like to find out, as crazy as that might seem. But as Ernest Hemingway said, “sometimes following your heart means losing your mind.”_

_I am not proposing anything crazy though. The truth is we don’t know each other--we don’t know a single real or tangible thing about one another. I understand that you’re not looking for love, and truthfully, I don’t know that I am either. I don’t know what I want from this, I’m not even sure I believe in love; but what I do know is that there was something about your that I felt connected to, and that’s worth exploring._

_So, on that note…_

_My name is Regina Mills._

_I am thirty-four years old and I have a ten year old son named Henry. Henry is my entire world. I went to Yale and studied accounting, but after a year at a high-paying firm I quit in an effort to save my soul. I am a journalist now, and I write human interest pieces for a little magazine that isn’t widely circulated outside of New England. My son is in Boy Scouts and in a fit of insanity, I signed up to be a Den Mother. If you knew me, you’d know how hilarious that is. I am not the outdoorsy type, outside of horseback riding, but there isn’t anything I wouldn’t do for my son--including going on hikes in the woods to identify various plants, making bonfires and burning my fingers trying to tie different types of knots._

_I love to cook, though, cooking for just me and my son can sometimes be a challenge. My favorite and best dishes are lasagna and apple pie, though my son really loves when I make homemade pizza, but that has less to do with me and everything to do with the fact that it’s pizza. I like old movies that make me laugh, my favorite season is winter, and I, too, won’t admit that I suffer from insomnia._

_I hope this letter finds you well nd that you haven’t been too burdened by people reaching out. While some may be looking for something you can not give, others--myself included--aren’t looking for anything other than an ear from a kindred spirit._

_I said before that some might call me hearing your story on the radio a sign, but I’m not sure that I agree. I don’t believe in those sorts of things--life has taught me that there’s no such thing. Life--and Hemingway--also taught me that every day is a new day and things come when you’re ready for them._

_Sincerely,_

_Regina_

Roland’s eyes widen a little as he reads the letter--he only understood about half of it, but he saw several words indicating some of the things his father enjoyed, including the name of an author whose books he collects.

“Dad! Dad!” Roland calls out, scrambling to his feet. “You gotta read this! Dad!”

“What, Roland?” Robin calls, coming into the living room with a look of alarm on his face. “What’s the matter?”

“This letter! It’s from Regina and--”

“Who?” Robin sighs. “I told you you shouldn’t read those anymore.”

“You gotta look at this letter!” Roland says, practically bouncing in front of Robin. “She didn’t say anything weird or inappropriate or--”

“Is that the standard for a woman I am supposed to date? Is that where we want to set the bar? Not weird or inappropriate?”

Roland shrugs. “I wouldn’t wanna date a girl who was weird or inappropriate.” Robin sighs as Roland waves the letter in front of him. “And Regina isn’t  _either_ of those things.”

“Roland,” Robin says, crouching down in front of him. “I am not going to date some woman who lives in--” He takes the envelope and looks at the address. “Connecticut.”

“She doesn't  _want_ to date you.” He blinks, his face scrunching with confusion. “She just wants to get to know you.”

Robin sighs, shaking his head. “Roland, Emma is going to be here in--”

“I don’t want to talk about Emma. I want to talk about Regina.”

“Roland--”

“Is Emma a Den Mother? Does she make good lasagna--  _your favorite_?”

“No, she doesn't have kids and doesn't--” Robin stops, the frustration evident in his face. “Look, we’re not going to fight about this right now.”

“I don’t want to fight about it. I want you to read the letter! I like this one, dad, and I want--”

“And I like Emma.”

“I don’t.”

“Roland,” Robin sighs, gently grabbing onto his arms. “Listen. I get that this is awkward for you, and I get that you think one of those letters--”

“Not one of, this one, dad.” He pours out his bottom lip. “Dad, she’s perfect for you.”

“Roland, you just read a letter.”

“Exactly. I read it. Not you! So, you can’t know if--”

“Roland--” He sighs, rubbing his fingers against his forehead. “I knew letting you read at three was a bad idea,” he mutters underneath his breath. “Letting you read was obviously where it all went wrong.”

“Dad, that’s stupid. Just read it! Please!”

Sighing, Robin stands up, and his head falls back a little. This is the worst possible time for his usually well behaved child to be throwing a tantrum. Earlier that day, he’d called Emma on a whim and asked her over for dinner. They laughed about what a culinary disaster they’d be in the kitchen--and holding his breath, he admitted that that actually sounded like fun. They settled on a relatively easy dish--a casserole--and Emma promised to get all of the ingredients on her way over, and that was that.

And as it seemed in that moment, she’d be arriving just as Roland broke into a full-fledged tantrum.

“We can talk about this later,” he says, trying to keep his voice calm and steady. “Just--”

“I don’t want to meet Emily.”

“Emma.”

“Whatever.”

“Roland, don't be rude.”

“Why because she's your girlfriend?”

“No,” he says, gritting his teeth. “First of all, she’s not my girlfriend.”

“Then why is she coming to dinner?”

“Because I like her.” At that, he feel guilt immediately. Roland’s face falls as he focuses on the ground, pouting out his bottom lip as he bats his eyes. “Hey,” he says, crouching down again and taking Roland by the arms, pulling him in and rubbing his nose against his. “I invited her over because I think you’ll like her. She plays video games and goes rock climbing and roller blades in the park--”

“You won’t let me rollerblade. You said it’s too dangerous. That the bigger kids will run me over.”

“Well… not… unsupervised.” A grin pulls onto his lips as he lifts his chin, rubbing his thumb over his son’s dimpled cheek. It’s just dinner, Roland. That’s all this is.”

Taking a breath, he finds himself wondering if this really isn’t about the letter, if he only likes the idea of the woman in the letter because she’s far away and merely an idea, whereas Emma is actually there--a real person rather than a myth, and therefore, harder to accept. The myth wasn’t a threat to his mother’s memory; a real person coming over and making dinner was.

“Roland, why don’t you go upstairs and wash up and--”

The doorbell rings and he feels his stomach tighten, and when he looks up he can see the red leather sleeve of Emma’s jacket through the window--and as her turns back to Roland, Roland slips away, running upstairs and slamming his bedroom door.

On that note, he opens the door for Emma, inviting her in and trying to smile, just hoping that the dinner goes smoothly.

Roland stays in his room as he and Emma prepare the casserole--a Shepherd’s pie recipe that she ripped out  of a magazine. When it’s nearly done he goes to Roland’s room and he finds him looking at the letter--then, without being asked, he puts the letter down and follows Robin down the stairs.

He’s quiet through dinner which sets the tone for dinner--and they never quite recover from it.

“Can I be excused?” Roland asks, looking to Robin as he speaks for the first time through the meal. “I have homework to do.”

“More reading?’

“And math.”

“Oh, well--okay,” Robin sighs, nodding. “Just make sure you thank Emma for the meal, she--”

“Thanks for the food. I’ve never had potatoes that were made like that,” Roland says, looking briefly at Emma before running back upstairs--and Robin is left, standing there awkwardly and pushing in his son’s chair.

“Um, sorry about that. I, um…” He laughs, shaking his head as he looks to Emma. “We don’t see many potato dishes around here. We’re rice men, really.”

Emma laughs out and nods. “I get it. Sometimes you’re just not ready for potatoes.”

Robin nods. “He’s been pushing for…” He stops--he hasn’t told Emma about the radio shrink or how he’d spilled his guts on the air at Christmas or that he’d somehow become Seattle’s most eligible bachelor. So he grabs a second dish and carries it into the kitchen. Emma grabs her plate and follows him and when he reaches the kitchen and looks at the casserole dish, he smiles. “This was… fun… aside from the incredibly awkward dinner portion.”

“It was,” Emma agrees. “I usually feel quite inadequate in the kitchen, but--”

“It’s nice to have someone to feel inadequate with.”

“Yeah,” Robin agrees--thinking of how much he’s missed cooking with Marian. “It was.”

_____

March 5, 1993- Greenwich, Connecticut:

Sitting at her desk in her office, she taps her pen on the edge of it, watching as the rain comes down outside--and all she can think about is Robin’s voice and how soft and sweet it was as he talked so clearly and honestly about love and magic, two things that had always eluded her.

“Mal,” she says, pressing down on the intercom on her desk phone. “Can you… come in her for a minute?”

“Sure,” Mal says--a moment later, she appears in Regina’s doorway. “What’s up?”

“I… want to bounce a story idea off of you.” Mal nods and comes into the office. This isn’t rare and unusually; it’s how they work. So, Regina waits for her to come in and sit down before tossing out her idea. “So, I was thinking about doing a story on radio shows.”

Mal’s brow arches. “Radio shows… or one particular episode of one particular radio show.”

“I’m… not sure of the scope, really.”

“Oh, okay. Right.”

Chewing on her lip, Regina nods. “Think Gold will go for it?”

“I think you’re a junior editor and you don’t need his approval--and considering some of the absolute crap he approves, I think you’re good.”

“Good,” she says, a bit briskly. “It’s… appealing though, right?

“It’s… it’s like that ad where the daughter gives the mom the refrigerator with the big red bow. It just… it tugs at the heartstrings.”

“So, it’s… its good. It’d work. People would read it.”

“Yeah, I think it would. So, you’re--”

“Mal, I can’t stop thinking about him. I can’t stop thinking about his voice and picture what he looks like and--” Her eyes press closed. “Oh, my god, Mal. I almost wrote to the man.”

“Almost, huh?”

“Can you imagine how embarrassing it would have been to actually send something like that--some pathetic letter telling him all about myself and why I’m so different from the hundreds of other women who’ve reached out to him.”

“Mmhmm,” Mal nods, pressing her lips together. “Completely--completely embarrassing and completely pathetic.”

Regina's eyes narrow. “I mean, it’s stupid, but at least this way, if I were to reach out, I’d have--” She sighs. “It’s still pathetic, isn’t it?”

“No, not at all,” Mal insists, sitting back in the chair. “You heard it. It was appealing. I don’t know anyone who could have listened to that story and not felt for the man, or his little boy. And that other time we listened in, they said they’d gotten hundreds of callers who wanted to reach out. That alone is enough for an article.”

“It’s not… too desperate?”

“No,” Mal says, easily. “It sounds like this is something you… need to explore.”

She nods. “I think so, too.”

“Even if it amounts to nothing, at least you’ll know and you can put it to rest--or, if it’s not--”

“No, don’t do that,” Regina says, shaking her head. “Don’t make any predictions about this or what it could mean or why I’m doing it. Just… let it unfold as it will and, we can take it from there.” For a moment, Mals jaw tightens and she looks as if there's something she wants to say--and then she realizes it. “I… haven’t said anything about this to Daniel. It’s just… it’s too weird and I don’t know what any this means and--”

“My lips are sealed.”

Regina draws in a breath and then turns her computer monitor toward Mal. “I… looked him up.”

“Oh?”

“He’s an architect and he just has one son. He volunteers at a soup kitchen and for a program that builds houses, and before his son was born, he was a volunteer part-time forest ranger.”

“He… sounds like a saint.”

“Right?”

“So, you’re going to meet him? Or, call him, maybe?”

“I don’t know.”

“Regina, if you’re going to write this story, you’d need to do some research.”

“I could call the radio station, talk to Doctor Hopper, maybe some of the other women who were compelled by his story, and then, if I need more--”

“--then you could reach out to him.”

“Yeah. Yeah, if I need to.”

“For the story.”

“Yes,” Regina nods. “For the…” She stops, leaning back in her hair as she shakes her head. “Mal, I don’t understand this. I don’t understand why I can’t get him out of my head, or why I recorded a replay of that episode, or why I got up a three in the morning to do it or--”

“Well, for as long as I’ve known you you haven't slept well.” And then a grin twists onto her lips. “You really woke up at there in the morning to hear a replay of that episode so that you could record it… and then presumably listen to it again and again and--”

“Okay, Mal, I get it. I’m… a little obsessed.”

“A little?” Mal laughs. “Regina, you crossed that line months ago.”

Regina’s eyes roll. “It’s… creative curiosity.”

“Yeah. Sure.” Bristling, Regina crosses her arms over her chest, and Mal sighs. “Honestly, it’s a good idea for a story-- a great idea, actually.”

“Thank you.”

“So, when are you going to Seattle?”

“I… I think I’ll call around first. Do a little more digging, investigate a few things, you know… get some background information before i interrupt this poor man’s life to put him on display for--”

“Regina, you’re not kidnapping him and selling him to the zoo, you’re talking to him.”

“I know, but I just feel…” She stops. “I don’t know what I feel.”

“I know you don’t,” Mal says, her voice suddenly softer as she reaches across the desk and gives Regina’s hand a little squeeze. “But you owe it to yourself to find out.”

“A month,” Regina says. “I think that’ll give me enough time to get things together--do some research, come up with my angle, figure out what I’m going to do and say and…”

“That’s fair.”

She nods. “I hope so.”

Grinning, Mal lets go of her hand. “Alright, I’ve got some work to do and I need to call my travel agent.”

Regina’s brow furrows. “Where are you going?”

“You’re not the only one with an interesting lead that they’re far too invested in.”

“Are you holding out on me?”

“No,” Mal says, signing as a little laugh bubbles up from her. “Lily wants to go and see her dad for spring break, and I’m not really sure I’m comfortable with her flying alone. So…”

“That makes more sense.”

“Yeah,” Mal says, offering her a quick wink. “It does, doesn’t it?”


	9. Chapter 9

March 6, 1993- Seattle, Washington:

Belle carries a bologna and cheese sandwich that’s cut up in quarters over to Roland, grinning as he grins up at her to accept it.

“So, she begins, sitting down across from him. “Your dad said you were having a friend over today after school. Did something happen?”

“No,” Roland says easily as he bites into the sandwich. “I ride the bus, but Gus doesn't, so his mom had to pick him up like she always does and bring him over.”

“Oh—“

“He said he had to make a stop.”

“He did,” Belle says, her brow arching. “Not his mum?”

“Nope. Him.”

“Ah—“

Roland nods as he chews  the bread’s crust. “We have a project we need to work on and we needed paper.”

“I’m sure you have paper here. You’ve got a whole bin of construction paper and—“

“No,” Roland says, cutting in and shaking his head. “We need  _nice_ paper for this.”

“Oh. Okay then.”

Roland grins and nods, then takes a bigger bite of the danish. “It’s really important that we have nice paper.”

“Oh…” Belle shifts and straws in a breath. “So your dad has been seeing my friend, Emma.”

“Emma is your friend?”

“Yes, mine and Ruby’s.”

“Oh, I… I didn’t know that.”

“Your dad says you don't like her.”

Roland shrugs. “I don’t really know her.”

“That’s fair,” Belle says slowly. “I just… I just want you to understand that just because they go on dates sometimes, that… that doesn't mean he’s going to marry her.”

Roland’s brow furrows as he looks back at her. “Then, what's the point of dating her?”

“Well, to… get out and get back in the swing of things and…”

“I don’t have a problem with my dad dating.”

“So, it’s...just Emma you don’t like?”

“I just don't think she’s right for him.”

“That’s why people date. To find someone who  _is_ right for them, and that’s a decision that no one else can make for another person.”

Roland nods, considering it. “Then why did you and Aunt Ruby set him up with Emma?”

“Because he’s a really good guy and she's nice and… we thought they might be good together.”

“I like Regina better.”

“Who?”

“Regina,” he says, as if she should know. “The lady who wrote the letter on the pretty paper.” He grins. “She likes Hemingway just like dad does, she has a son who is in Boy Scouts and I’ll be in Boy Scouts next year, and she makes great lasagna, dad’s favorite.” Roland grins as he considers it, and then his grin fades away. “Emma makes Shepherd’s pie. It was not good.”

“Not everyone is gifted in the kitchen.”

“I know, that’s why dad needs someone who is.”

At that, Belle laughs. “So where is this Regina person from?”

“Connecticut.”

“Roland, that’s really far away. It’s all the way on the other side of the country.”

“I know where Connecticut is. I looked it up on the big map at school.” He pauses and takes another bite of the sandwich. “But Gus says a long distance relationship can be a good thing because abstinence makes the heart grow fonder.”

“Um, I think you mean  _absence_ , Roland.”

“Yeah. That. That’s what Gus said.”

Belle’s eyes narrow. “Gus as in the little boy that’s coming over to play?”

“To work on a project.”

“Oh, are you not friends with Gus that way?”

“He’s my best friend.”

“Oh, I just…” Belle stops. “Never mind.”

“Well, that may or may not be true, but who am I to argue with the sage advice of a six year old?”

“Gus is seven. He had a late birthday, so he could have been in second grade.”

A grin twists on to Belle’s lips. “That explains it then.”

“Yeah…”

The doorbell rings just as Roland is finishing his sandwich, and as soon as it does, he stuffs the rest of the sandwich into his mouth and runs to the door. And Belle can’t help but laugh as he pulls open the front door, grabs a hold of his friend’s wrist and drags him up the stairs without a word…

“You should see this letter,” Roland says, closing the door behind him.

“Is the paper nice? My mom says that’s how you know someone cares—when they send you something nice.” Gus nods with a serious expression on his round face. “It’s all about the effort, ya know.?”

Roland nods in agreement. “It’s  _very_ nice.”

“Then she really likes your dad.”

“Yeah,” Roland says, grabbing the letter from his night stand. “And she included so many of the things my dad likes, without even knowing it.”

“Wow.”

“I know,” Roland says handing his friend the letter. “Look.”

He watches as Gus looks at the envelope, examining it carefully as if looking for clues, then he unfolds the letter, his eyes slowly moving over the words. “You read this?”

“Well… not.. not all of it,” Roland admits. “Just the words I know. But I can tell it’s a really good letter.” He grins. “She quoted Hemingway, and one of the quotes she uses, my dad has a journal that says that same thing on the front.”

“Cool.”

“Right? She is a good cook, too.”

“My dad says that’s super important.”

“Her best meals are my dad’s favorite which is lasagna and then my favorite, apple pie.”

“That’s amazing,” Gus says, his eyes widening a little. “Why did your dad say?”

Roland frowns. “He didn’t read it.”

“Why not?”

“He’s got a girlfriend.”

“Does  _she_ make apple pie?”

“No, she makes Shepherd's pie.”

“Ew.”

Roland nods. “It had peas in it.”

“Gross. She’s gotta go.”

“Yeah,” Roland frowns. “She’s… not that bad, really. She rollerblades, I guess.”

“Has she taken you?”

“No.”

“Oh. Then what good is that?”

“I don't know,” Roland admits, “Maybe she will someday.”

“But maybe your Dad’ll dump her before that.”

“I hope so,” Roland says, a little grin pulling onto his lip. “That’s why I invited you over, actually.”

“Need me to throw a fire and scare her of? My dad says I’m ‘specially skilled at making people wanna leave when I get upset about stuff.” He giggles. “Have you ever seen  _Parent Trap_?”

“No. “What’s that?”

“Only the best movie ever. Twins scare off their dad’s terrible girlfriend.”

“Well, I’m not a twin, so I don’t think that would work,” Roland says, considering it as he shifts a bit uncomfortably. “Plus, not actually terrible. I don’t want to scare her,” he says. “I just want her to break up with my dad ‘cause there’s someone better for him.”

“That’s the point,” Gus says. “To make Emma go away.”

“I have a better idea, though,” Roland says, sitting up a little straighter and smiling at his own cleverness. “We are going to write her.”

“Her—“

“Regina,” Roland says. “We are going to write back to her.”

“We’re in  _first grade_ , Roland.”

“But we’re the best writers in our class. Our teacher is always saying that.”

Gus nods. “That’s true.”

“So, together, I think we could probably write a pretty good one.”

For a moment, Gus considers it. “We  _did_ get an A on that Halloween story was wrote together.”

“Exactly.” Taking a breath, Gus looks down at the letter. “I have some ideas. I started yesterday.”

“Let’s see.”

Reaching back into the nightstand, Roland pulls a lined piece of paper from the drawer. “It’s, just a draft, obviously.” He says, handing the paper over to Gus, watching as Gus reads it to himself then clears his throat to read aloud.

“Dear Regina,” he begins.”You sound really neat—“ Gus grins up at him. “That's a good line.”

“I thought so,” Roland beams.

“You should tell her how much you like lasagna next.”

“Yeah! And why!”

“Good,” Gus nods, looking down at the rest of the letter. “That's good. She is going to  _love_ this!”

_____

March 6, 1993- Greenwich, Connecticut:

That evening she and Daniel went out on a date—dinner while Henry was at a friend’s working on a project for school. Daniel suggested the little place in Hartford where they’d gone on their first date, and she’d easily agreed—Henry didn't have to be picked up until nearly eight that evening and it’d have nice to eat in a restaurant that didn’t have children’s section on the menu.

They took her car and when they got into the freeway, Daniel flicked on the radio, and almost immediately her cheeks flushed at the sound of Doctor Hopper’s voice.

“Isn’t this that show you like so much?”

Regina shrugs. “I’m, um… I’m actually doing a story for work on this show.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, it’s... it’s about its emotional appeal.”

“Ohh, that's… that’s actually really interesting. I’d like to hear about it sometime,” Daniel tells her, offering a quick little grin. “When did you start this?”

“Um, a couple of weeks ago.”

“Is it—“

“Can we… not talk about it right now? I’ve spent the whole day thinking about the angle I wasn’t to take for this story and what my argument is going to be, and I just… I just want to focus on something else.”

“Yeah, sure,” Daniel says easily, not seeming to pick up any any of her discomfort over this particular topic. “Do you want to change the station?”

“No,” she murmurs. “I do like this show. It’s… it’s oddly calming.”

“Alright then,” Daniel says, grinning as he looks over at her. “We’ll listen, but not discuss.”

“Perfect,” she says, grinning back.

Daniel tuns up the sound just as Doctor Hopper comes back informing listeners  that he’s talking to couples who are sure they’ve found the key to a long-lasting and healthy marriage. And then, they listen to a string of callers explain to Doctor Hopper and his listeners how they married someone they felt was their best friend.

When they arrive at the restaurant, the host leads them to the same table they’d ate at on their first date and she and Daniel had both laugh at the coincidence—and then something glitters in Daniel’s eyes.

And again, she found herself with an uneasy feeling that has become commonplace whenever she thinks he might be considering a proposal.

They get through an appetizer and dinner—and then, after their desert arrives, she watches Daniel reach into the breast pocket of his jacket and pull out a ring box.

She masks her discomfort with surprise and suddenly when the box opens, revealing to her a gorgeous antique ring that he tells her was his mother’s, the entire restaurant is staring that them.

She’s not even sure what he says when he asks because she can’t hear him over the beating of her heart and the voice in her head that tells her this is too soon—but he smiles and the crowded restaurant aww’s and she finds herself nodding, reminding herself that Daniel is, by far, the sweetest, kindest man she’s ever met, that he loves her son and that he loves her, and she reminds herself that she would be a complete fool not to want to marry him.

And as she stares at him with a hundred conflicting thoughts going through her head, she couldn’t help but think there were far worse things than marrying a man like Daniel Colter; and while she and Daniel might not have had passion, but perhaps they had something better.

She comfort and ease, understanding and trust and the sort of love that came from what seemed to be rekindled friendship.

So, she says yes.

The restaurant claps and Daniel pulls her into a warm hug—and she sort of melts into him as she feels a burst of contentment that lasts for the rest of the evening.

And then, she gets home.

Mal is there, curled up one he armchair with a glass of wine, her brow arched skeptically.

“Thank you, for, um,... for picking Henry up.”

“He’s never any trouble.”

Regina smiles. “Is he already asleep.”

“Yeah, He went to bed about a half an hour ago. You just—“ Mal stops and sits up a little straighter as her eyes fall to Regina’s hand. “Oh, so  _that’s_ why you were detained.”

Smiling Regina nods. “We… um… we had some unexpected celebrating to do.”

“I’ll say, Mal says, getting up and cross the room toward her. “He finally did it.”

“He finally did.”

“And, you obviously said yes.”

I did,” Regina says smiling a bit shyly. “I… wasn’t sure, but then there he was with the ring and—“

“Regina—“

“I love him. I do. And what we have might not be perfect, but it’s incredible and I’m happy and I’ve never been as happy as I am with him.”

“What about Sleepless in Seattle?”

“Sleepless in Seattle doesn't even know that I exist.”

Mal nods, biting down on her lip. “What happened to not being able to get him out of your head?”

“He’s a fantasy Mal. He’s not real… not… not to me anyway.” She shakes her head. “And Daniel  _is_ very real and when I’m with him I feel—“

“Magic?”

“Mal—“

“Please don’t do this, Mal,” Regina says, pressing her eyes closed as she sighs. “Please just let me have this.”

“What about your story?”

“What’s about it? Regina asks, stepping away from Mal. “I can still write it.”

“Really? Because I got the impression the story was an excuse.”

“The story isn’t an excuse. It’s… it’s just something I’m interested in.” She shakes her head. “I… I think I was going down a really unhealthy road, and… and tonight sort of… snapped me back and put me down a different path.”

“A better one?”

“A healthier one. One that’s based on something real, not… not some obsession.” Something about that makes Mal soften. “For so long I was so unhappy, and I spent years building up this idea of what love is supposed to be.”

“You deserve a fairytale.”

“Fairytales aren't real, Mal. They’re not and what I have with Daniel is very real.”

“Do you love him?”

“Yes, of course I do.”

“Are you in love with him?”

“I love him, Mal, and when I envision what our life together would be like, I really like what I see.” She smiles gently. “We’ll be happy.”

“You don’t seem excited.”

“I am, and for the first time in my life, I feel like… like I’m finally in a good place. Please, Just… let me have that.”

Mal sighs and nods,m and then a warm smile pulls onto her lips. “Okay, fine,” Mal says, take a few steps in and pulling her into a hug. “If you're happy, then I’m happy.”

“Thank you,” Regina murmurs as Mal pulls back.

“Okay, so I want you to tell me everything, Mal says, her smile brightening as she takes Regina by the hand. “Don’t leave  _anything_ out!”


	10. Chapter 10

April 6, 1993- Seattle, Washington:

“You should come back to my place,” Emma says leaning against the back of her car and grinning suggestively. “I’m not ready for breakfast to be over.”

“As nice as that sounds,” Robin says, shifting a bit awkwardly as he stuffs his hands in his pockets. “I can’t. You know that I can’t. I’m helping Roland and his friends practice for the Raingutter Regatta. We’re testing out the boats for the first time.”

“Aren’t other parents going to be there?”

“That’s not the point.”

“I know,” Emma concedes. “But you can’t blame me for trying.”

“You could always come along. It’s fun. We fill the gutters with water and put on some fans and race the boats. The kids have a blast with it, and truthfully, so do the parents.”

Emma’s nose scrunches. “I doubt that Roland wants me to tag along.”

“He… just needs some time to adjust.”

“Maybe, but… this sounds like it’s  _your_ special thing with him.”

Robin grins. “Me, him and four other little boys.”

Emma shrugs. “I’d have killed for that when I was a kid.”

He smiles gently, remembering that she wasn’t much older than Roland when her parents died in a car crash. He tries to be cognizant of it and he tries his best not to say things that scratch on old wounds, but every now and then when he brings up some sort activity or tradition that he and Roland share, she pushes back as if to put distance between them. He’s invited her along to a handful of things, and with the exception of the dinner at his house, that admittedly went quite poorly, she’s declined and become uncomfortable. For awhile, he wondered if she didn’t like kids--and that would certainly have been a deal breaker--but the more he got to know her and the more he talked to Belle and Ruby about it, he came to realize that it was residual feelings about her parents that she hadn’t quite dealt with.

And he wasn’t quite sure what to do with that.

But then again, he had his own baggage that he’d never quite dealt with.

He likes Emma and their dates were a break from the monotony that was his life as a newly single dad. But his relationship with Emma was very much separate from the rest of his life, and as they got to know eachother better, the more separate it seemed to become.

“Call me when you’re done?”

“Yeah, sure,” he says easily, nodding. “Should be around two.”

“I think I’ve finally found a trail we’ll both enjoy.”

“Ahh, I’m intrigued.”

Nodding, she grins and a bit awkwardly leans in to press a kiss to his cheek. “Call me.”

“Definitely.”

He watches her get into her car and drive off, and as he watches her go he can’t help but notice he doesn't feel her absence. It’s an odd thought, really, but when he was with Marian being without her started to feel strange. When she was gone--to the grocery store or on a weekend girls trip with friends-- he felt her absence. He didn’t quite feel himself or know what to do with himself, and when she returned, it felt like, finally, all was right in the world. It was a little thing, and he knew that it wasn’t fair to compare Emma to Marian--or to compare the way he felt about each of them. Deep down he knew he’d never find another love like Marian, and he was content with a companion who wasn’t a relative or six years old.

But at the same time, after a month, he didn’t expect this to be the direction they were going in; and he knew that eventually, he’d want more. After all, he’d all but confessed to the world that when he thought of his future, he saw himself settling down with someone new.

He mulled it over as he drove, weighing both sides of things--the pros and the cons of a casual relationship--and by the time he pulled into the driveway to pick up Roland, he decided that he could enjoy this for what it was--a break and reprieve, something that didn’t have the weight of a serious relationship, something to get his feet wet again and get him back into the swing of things. Then, by the time he reached the door, he couldn’t believe his own insensitivity or that he was okay using a woman as a stepping stone to something bigger and better and more meaningful.

“Hey, is Roland about ready?”

Belle nods from the couch. “Yeah, Ruby just got done ironing his kerchief. He’s putting it on.”

“I know he thinks it’s dorky, but that thing is so cute on him.”

Belle grins. “I’m partial to the knee socks.”

“He hates the knee socks.”

“I know, but next year, when he’s in Boy Scouts it won’t be part of the uniform, so I am going to make him wear them as often as possible, regardless of how he feel about them.”

“You know,” Robin says, leaning against the arm of the couch. “There’s going to be a day when he won’t let you and Ruby play dress up with him and treat him like a doll.”

“But that day isn’t today.”

He grins. “Well, if he comes down in a kerchief and knee socks, you’ll be correct.”

“It’s part of the uniform.”

“It’s optional.”

Belle shrugs. “He doesn't know that.”

Chucking softly, Robin shakes his head--and his morning with Emma seems so distant, like it wasn’t even a part of the same day, let alone the same life. “Can I… ask you something?”

“Shoot.”

“Does Emma talk about me?”

Belle blinks. “Well, I’m your sister, so I’m sure there are things she just… doesn’t tell me.”

“Right, but… does she mention me.”

“Sometimes.”

“Does she seem to… like me?”

Belle blinks. “Like you,” she says slowly. “Do you not think she likes you? Do you think she wants to break up.”

“No, no, no. Not exactly. It’s--” He stops and sighs. “It’s just… it’s this weird feeling I get when I’m with her.”

“You think she’s not into you.”

“No, I think… I’m… not into her.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

Belle’s eyes narrow. “Can you… give me an example or--”

“At first, I thought it was because dating was so new to me or because I’m still in love with Marian, but lately, I just… I don’t feel like she’s my girlfriend. I don’t feel like we’re a couple. I feel like I’m hanging out with a buddy.”

“Well, when I set you up I told you she was looking for something casual.”

“I know, but…” He sighs. “I like her. When I’m with her we have fun. We like the same crap food and she likes doing outdoorsy things and she’s not clingy, but--”

“Are you having fun?”

“When I’m with her?” He shrugs. “Yeah. I guess I am.”

“Then, maybe just… enjoy it for what it is.”

“I don’t want to use her.”

“She won’t think that.”

“But  _I_  think that. I’m dating a woman I have no intention of going to the next level with.”

“You’re spending time with a person who isn’t part of the family. You go out. You do things. You live a life outside of being Roland’s dad.”

He frowns. “But I like being Roland’s dad.”

“Of course you do, but that’s not  _all_ you are.” She shrugs. “For so long you were Robin-and-Marian. Now, you have to remember who just Robin is.”

He nods--that does make sense and he does enjoy the time he spends with Emma. She’s introduced him to noir films and rekindled his interest in hiking on trails not suitable for a child; she never tells him that he should choose something healthier and since they’ve started dating he’s found himself more willing to try new things. Before Emma, his life was routine--he got up, he took care of Roland, he took Roland to school and then went to work, then he came home and took care of Roland before going to bed and starting the same routine over again in the morning. Some things Emma introduced him to he didn’t enjoy--but once he figured that out, they didn’t do it again. She didn’t push him. She just let him be--and he couldn’t remember the last time he was allowed to do that without expectation.

“If you’re really worried about it, you should talk to her. Take some time and really think about it, and then talk to her. Tell her what you’re thinking.”

“I could,” he agrees. “Maybe I’ll take the boat out today.”

“Ruby and I certainly aren’t using it,” Belle says. “You still know the the key code for our garage door?”

“Yeah,” Robin deadpans. “It’s your birthday.”

“Well, it’s been awhile.”

“Yeah,” Robin sighs, remembering how he used to take the boat out whenever he needed to clear his head, usually after a fight with Marian. The water gave him a sort of clarity, a chance to be alone with his thoughts and to work out his feelings. “It’s been too long.”

Belle nods, and for a moment, silence falls between them and he loses himself momentarily in thought, still thinking about his relationship with Emma--and of course, Belle picks up on that. “She’s not the type who is going to take this the wrong way. She doesn’t get attached like that,” she reminds him as she bites down on her lip, Belle lets out a little whimper and grimaces as if to brace herself. “How’s, um… the sex.”

Robin’s eyes widen a little. “We don’t talk about that.”

“Me and you or you and Emma?”

“Me and you.”

“Just… are things… good there?”

“Fine. Just fine.”

“Then, just go with it. Enjoy it for what it is is and don’t think too much about it, and if you’re really bothered by this setup, then you need to take to her.”

“Talk to who?” Roland asks, hopping off the last stair--and he can’t help but laugh at his son’s kerchief and knee socks, or at the fact that he doesn't know how uncool or unstylish those two pieces of clothing are.

“Nevermind.”

Roland shrugs. “We gotta pick Gus up on the way.”

Robin’s eyes shift to Ruby. “His mom called. She’s feeling sick, and… we kinda told her that you could pick him up on the way so he doesn’t have to miss the regatta.”

“Yeah, that’s fine,” Robin says, shrugging his shoulders as he looks to Roland. “But he can’t stay.”

“No? Why?”

“Because I’m taking you fishing after the regatta.”

“You are?” Roland asks, his eyes widening. “We haven’t gone since--” He stops and his excitement fades.

“Since mum died.”

“Yeah.”

“I think she’d be glad to know we’ve started going fishing again.”

“Me too,” Roland agrees. “But we gotta throw all the fish back. That’s what mom always did.”

Laughing, Robin nods as he reaches for Roland’s jacket. “Sounds like a plan,” he says easily, handing Roland the jacket--and completely forgetting about the promised phone call to Emma.

_____

April 6, 1993- Greenwich, Connecticut to Seattle, Washington and back again:

Regina sits at her desk, rubbing her thumb against the back of her engagement ring--it’s barely six in the morning, and she’s already in tears.

Of course, at the start of it, she knew that this week was going to hard on her--after all, Henry was spending a week with his father on a court-ordered visit. From the time they separated until the start of that year, Leopold had shown little interest in their son; and it seemed to everyone that when he divorced her, he’d also divorced Henry. For awhile, it made her blood boil and she hated the way he so easily discarded their son--but then, she’d gotten used to it being just her and Henry, and she liked it. She liked not having to share him, and he seemed happier without his father in his life. Mal had filled the void of another parent relatively seamlessly, and she and Henry, and Mal and Lily had become so much closer since her divorce, creating their own little family unit--and then when Daniel came into the picture, he, too, just fit into their lives. She and Henry were both content with that and she hated that it had to change.

Then Leopold changed his mind, and there was no real reason she should stand in the way. Henry tried to protest, but he hadn’t much choice in the matter--and now, here she was, crying at her desk and missing her son.

For the first two nights, Daniel stayed with her, and that helped a bit--but last night he had to go into the city for an early morning meeting, and she’d been on her own. She decided to take the opportunity to get some work done, focusing her time and energy on the article she was writing about Doctor Hopper’s show. She was going over her notes with Doctor Hopper when something in her interview with her caught her eye--the moment he asked her when she first her his show, and then, suddenly, everything that she’d been trying not to think about flooded forward until all she could think about was Sleepless in Seattle--or, Robin, as he was really called.

“You… look like you were hit by a bus on your way to work,” Mal says, coming onto the office and extending a cup of coffee to her. “This was help… some of that.”

“Thanks,” she murmurs, accepting the coffee. “I miss Henry.”

“Of course you do.”

“And I miss--” she stops. “Is is possible to miss someone you don’t know.”

“You listened to that tape again, didn’t you? The recording you have of Doctor Hopper’s Christmas show, the one with Sleepless in Seattle.”

“Robin,” she supplies. “And Roland.”

“And you can’t stop thinking about them.”

She nods. “I should be thinking about my fiance.”

Mal’s eyes narrow. “Regina, you know you need to figure this out, one way or another, you have to  _do something_  about this.”

“I know,” she admits quietly. “I owe to…”

“Yourself.”

She nods. “Yeah. I just… I feel terrible that I can’t get him out of my head. I’m engaged to a  _wonderful_ man who--”

“This doesn't mean you’re being unfaithful. It just means you have some things you need to figure out before you marry him.”

“Sleepless in Seattle is a fantasy.”

“No, he’s a real person who you feel a connection to,” Mal says gently. “And it’s a strange way that he came into your life, but you need to explore why that was and why you feel so strongly about a man you don’t know.”

“I know,” Regina admits. “I just… I feel terrible about this.”

“Of course you do. Despite what you present to the world, you’re not an asshole.”

At that, Regina grins. “Given the phone call I had with Leo the other night, no everyone would agree.”

“So what?” Mal says, shrugging her shoulders. “I know you feel guilty about this guy--this stranger--but I think Daniel would understand.”

Her brows arch up. “Really?”

“Yeah,” Mal says, nodding as she grins. “Because he’s not an asshole either.”

“He’s not. he’s--”

“Wonderful. I know. We’ve been over this,” Mal interjects. “But Daniel being wonderful doesn’t change the fact that this is something you need to figure out.”

Regina nods. “I know.”

“Come on,” Mal says, reaching for her hand. “I’ll drive you to the airport.”

“Mal, I don’t have a ticket--”

“I’ve had you on the standby list for a month, just in case you needed to go out there on a whim.” A grin pulls onto her lips. “You know, for the sake of your article.”

Laughing gently, Regina nods, and drawing in a deep breath, she stands up and reaches for her jacket, knowing that it’s now or never.

Mal drives her to the airport and she secures a ticket on the next flight out to Seattle. Mal waits with her at the gate, distracting her with stories about Lily’s latest troubles involving a 40-something percent on a math test and a forged parent signature, and her stomach flutters as the flight attendant calls for her flight to begin boarding.

Flutters, she realizes, it doesn't tighten--and of course, Mal thinks that’s a sign.

The flight goes quicker than anticipated--and perhaps, that’s because she dozes off for half of it--and before she even realizes it, she’s landing in Seattle.

She rents a car and then fishes the file out of her bag, looking at the address that the radio show gave her--and before she can think about it for too long, she plans out the route on the map and sets out. The whole way there, she refuses to think about what she’ll say or how her unexpected presence will seem to him, reminding herself that she has her article to use as an excuse.

But as soon as she arrives, she freezes and finds that she can’t even get out of the car--then, it doesn’t matter, because as she’s working up the nerve to go up and knock on the door, to talk to him face-to-face, the door opens and he ushers out a little boy wearing a Cub Scouts uniform,

Despite her discomfort, her chest tighten as the little boy comes closer, opening up the door and climbing into the the Jeep. She can’t help but smile at his unruly curls and sweet dimples, and though she can’t quite hear him, he laughs and his whole face lights up--and that’s when her eyes shift to Sleepless in Seattle--to Robin.

Her heart starts to beat a little faster as she takes him in, watching as he fishes his key out of his pocket and says something else that makes his son laugh. He has dark blonde hair and scruffy cheeks, and despite the light sweater that he’s wearing, when he pulls open the car door, his arm flexes a bit, and she can see that he’s physically fit.

He’s attractive--and she finds herself wishing that he wasn’t.

Awkwardly, she busies herself in the folder, trying to look occupied and not make eye-contact--and then her cheeks flush. Even if he saw her, he’d think nothing of it. He didn't know her. He wouldn’t recognize her. For all he knew she was lost or visiting a neighbor, and even if he saw her, it wouldn’t mean he noticed her.

Holding her breath, she shifts the car into drive and heads down the street, driving until she spots a Starbucks. She parks and gathers her things, then goes inside, buying a coffee and inquiring where she might find a payphone. The barista pours her coffee and nods toward the beach, telling her there should be one by the pavillion.

It’s a nice enough day to work outside, so she calls the radio station and asks if she might come in later that day, explaining that she’s unexpectedly found herself in the Seattle area and was hoping to drop in. Doctor Hopper quickly agrees to it, telling her to stop by at around four, and she decides for the rest of the day, she’ll set up shop at one of the picnic tables, do a little writing and watch as the waves roll onto the shore.

She’s busy with her notes, trying to turn Doctor Hopper’s words into prose, and for the most part, she feels like she’s doing a good job. Every now and then her thoughts drift to Robin, wondering if she should try again or wondering if all of this is crazy--and then, as she looks up, she watches a Jeep that looks like his pull up. There’s a boat attached to it now, and she watches as Roland jumps down, obviously excited about something.

She has a better look at him now, and he’s even cuter than she thought it was in the driveway at the house--and she can’t help but notice the contrast in him from Christmas to now. Then, she rolls her eyes at herself--she’s acting as if she personally knows them.

Robin gets out of the Jeep and reaches for Roland, sweeping him up and lifting him onto his shoulders and carrying him into the little store adjacent to the parking lot--and she feels the oddest stirring in her chest as if she misses them.

Craning her neck, she tries to catch a glimpse of them in the shop, but she can’t quite see them through the poster-covered window--then, a minute or so later, Roland comes bounding out with Robin on his heels. They hop back into the Jeep and pull out, and she frowns as they drive way, wishing she’d thought to go into the little shop while they were still in there--then, as soon as that that comes, she groans at her own desperation.

She frowns when she realizes that they’re gone, and for awhile, she turns her attention back to her notes, highlighting a few quotes and writing down a few more questions she’d like to ask Doctor Hopper and maybe his station manager, and then, as she sits up, she feels a tightness in her lower back and suddenly regrets choosing to work at a picnic table.

Looking at her watch, she sighs, realizing she’s been crouched over for the better part of two hours. So, she packs up her things and decides a walk might be good for her--after all, it seems a waste to come all the way across the country and not enjoy the new scenery.

Regina tucks her back into her rental car and locks the door, then strolls toward the paved path along the edge of the beach, watching the waves roll onto the sand and sea gulls pluck fragments of dropped pretzels and pizza crusts from the sand. She takes off her shoes and steps out onto to sand, grinning as it prickles against the bottom of her feet. It’s probably too cold for this, but she doesn’t care, deciding to enjoy the way her feet sink down into it and the way the grainy sand rubs at her skin. And then, as she rounds a bend, she sees a boat not too far off from the dock.

A smile pulls onto her lips when she realizes that it’s Robin and Roland--and against her better judgement, she walks closer, walking down the path to the dock and standing on the edge, staring out at the water and at them.

Robin has Roland in his lap and he’s hugging him back against him. Roland’s wearing a bright orange life preserver that seems to swallow him whole, and they’re both holding onto a fishing pole. She’s not sure how long she stands there, but she can’t seem to take her eyes off of them--and when a fish tugs at the line, Robin leans back and helps Roland reel it in. She watches as Robin carefully pulls the fish from the line, and she laughs out when Roland takes the fish and tosses it back into the ocean--and then, they both turn toward the dock. Roland doesn’t seem to notice her, but Robin does and her heart starts to beat faster and faster, pounding in her ears as he leans toward her, bringing his had up to cup his brow as he narrows his eyes in an effort to see her.

And in that moment, she realizes just how crazy she is.

Turning away from the dock, she walks briskly toward the rental car, practically running as her cheeks redden with embarrassment--and when she gets to the car, she quickly pulls out of the parking lot and heads in the direction of the airport.

When she gets there, returns the car and buys a ticket--and when she can’t get one to Connecticut, she choose the closest destination to it, deciding she can find her way home once she’s on the proper coast.

Once she’s at the gate, she finds a payphone and calls the radio station, making an excuse and offering her apologies, and when Doctor Hopper asks if she’d like to reschedule, she lies and says that she would, promising to call him once she’s landed and back in her office.

Then, she calls Mal.

She tells her everything--from how she’d waited outside his house and watched him leave, to how she’d saw him again in the parking lot, and then again when he was fishing with his son--and when Mal suggests that maybe fate was pushing her into his orbit, she disagreed wholeheartedly, practically bursting into tears as she called herself a stalker.

Then, after Mal agreed to come and get her when she landed in Boston, she dumped her entire file on Sleepless in Seattle into the trash, and told herself that at the very least one good thing came from her bout of insanity--she was over this now and she could move on with her life.


	11. Chapter 11

May 28, 1993- Seattle, Washington: **  
**

He’d had the talk with Emma, and she’d easily admitted that she was okay with keeping things casual. She liked him and she enjoyed his company, but she didn’t want to get in too deep or disrupt his life or put labels on things and try to fit into some traditional role that didn’t really work for either of them.

So he decided that if she was okay with the way things were, so was he.

Or he could be.

Or should be.

But when it came down to it, he wasn’t.

This wasn’t the sort of relationship that he wanted.

He wanted someone who would curl up on the couch with him and Roland and spend an entire day watch  _The Great Mouse Detective, The Little Mermaid_ , and  _The Rescuers Down Under_. He wanted someone who would go to Roland’s Cub Scouts activities with him and tell him that giving junk food to children wasn't good idea no matter what Roland said, and would replace pizza rolls with apples and peanut butter. He wanted someone who’d come to him, who’d involve his son on their dates, and someone who wanted to be a mother. He wanted someone who’d fight with him, someone who stood her ground, and someone who he’d have passionate makeup with. He wanted someone who could offer him more, someone he could build a future, someone who would make him fall in love all over again.

Emma had helped him to rediscover parts of himself that he’d forgotten about, and for that, he’d always be grateful--and though it seems cliche and the sort of line you’d give without actually meaning it to soften the blow of a break up, he genuinely hoped they could still be friends.

Now, he just had to figure out a way to tell Emma.

And now that he’d come to this realization, he needed to do it sooner rather than later.

Drawing in a breath, he reaches for the the phone, slowly dragging his fingers through the dial as he tries to figure out what to say--and all he manages to decide doing this over this over the phone probably isn’t his best option.

But, of course, it’s ringing and it’s too late to hang up, so he decides to ask her out for lunch--and then he’ll her over pizza. Nodding, he decides that’s a much better plan, and holds his breath waiting for her to pick up--and for brief moment, he thinks she won’t.

“Hello?” she asks, picking out the phone and sounding both irritated and out of breath.

“Hey, Emma. It’s me… it’s Robin.”

“Oh. Hi.”

“I was going to ask if you wanted to grab lunch, but it sounds like I’ve interrupted something.”

“No, no. You haven’t, and an hour ago I would have had plans, but not I don’t.”

His brow furrows. “Oh…”

“My car died. So, I’m stuck here.”

“Oh, were you… going somewhere?” He asks, trying to remember if she mentioned something to him and coming up blank. “Or do you need to be going somewhere?”

“The airport,” she says briskly, still sounding annoyed. “In, like, an hour.”

“Did you… call a cab?”

“Yes!  _Of course_ , I did. He never showed.”

“Oh. That’s...that’s weird.”

She sighs. “He was having trouble understanding me. We had a bad connection or something. He probably went to the wrong address and now someone else has my cab.”

Robin’s brow furrows. “Well… I could take you, I suppose,” he says, glancing toward the stairs. “Or well, Roland and I could.”

There’s a long pause, and for a second, it seems like she’s searching for a reason to say no--but then, she offers a tentative-sounding  _okay_ and asks if he could get her there by the time her flight takes off--and though he doesn’t have an answer for that, he says he’ll try.

He gets to Emma’s in record time and somehow, miraculously, he gets her to the airport in time.

On the way there, Emma explains that she’s meeting some friends she grew up with, kids who were in and out of foster care, like her, and kids she lived with through her teenage years at a group home. They were the closest thing to family she had, and though she wanted to see them, seeing them always set her on edge a bit.

She left it at that, not explaining anymore, and he could only assume she was on edge because seeing them reminded her of everything she lost and everything she didn’t have. But he didn’t press, he just listened and nodded, and every now and then, glanced in the rearview mirror to check on Roland who never once looked up from his gameboy.

When they reach the gate they exchange hasty goodbye and quickly, without a kiss or a hug, Emma turns and follows the crowd to board. He sighs and looks to Roland who giggles and makes a face. Robin rolls his eyes and drapes his arm around his son’s shoulders, turning him away from the gate and suggesting they grab some chili fries from the food court before heading home--and that’s when he notices her.

He stops dead in his tracks as he watches a woman with shoulder length dark brown hair step into the gate. She has a little boy with her and she’s rummaging through her purse. The little boy says something to her and she looks up at him, laughing--and from where he’s standing, he can hear it, soft and musical--and beautiful as her laugh is, it doesn't compare to the smile that accompanies it.

“Dad, the fries,” Roland whines, tugging on his hand and forcing him to take a step back. “Come on.”

“I just--”

“Dad!”

“One second,” he says, tightening his hold on Roland’s hand as he takes a step forward--and then, before he can take another, a man approaches her, carrying a bouquet of flowers. He slips a hand around her and presses a kiss to her cheek and as she accepts the bouquet, the light catches the stone on her ring--and though it’s completely irrational, he can’t help but feel disappointed.

“Dad! The fries! I’m  _starving_!”

With a sigh, he looks to Roland at his side. “You aren’t starving.”

“Yes, I am.”

“You’re hungry, not starving.”

“Same difference.”

“No,” he sighs, looking up to steal one more glimpse of the woman at the gate--and again disappointment washes over him when he finds she’s already disappeared into the crowd.

“Daaaad--”

“Okay, okay,” he says, turning back to Roland scooping him up, lifting him onto his shoulders. “Let’s get those fries.”

“Can we get cheese on them, too?”

“Brilliant.”

“And eat them while we watch the planes take off?”

“Even better,” he says, taking one last glimpse into the crowd and searching for her--and feeling one last wave of disappointment washes over him when he realizes that she’s really gone.

____

May 28, 1993- Somewhere above Washington State and Seattle, Washington:

Regina rings her hands nervously as she looks to Henry, watching as he stares out the window, trying to catch his first glimpse of Seattle, and she reminds herself that this trip to Seattle will be totally and completely different from the last.

She’ll be sure of it.

In the nearly two months since her last visit, she had done her best to forget everything about it, including Sleepless in Seattle.

But now that she was on a plane descending into the city of Seattle, suddenly, he was all she could think about--the way he lifted his son onto his shoulder, the way he smiled and laughed as the boy threw the fish back into the water, the way his shirt tightened subtly around his arms.

And that feeling of guilt that she’d lived with since she heard Doctor Hopper’s show on Christmas came rushing back, and she didn’t know how to stop it.

Taking a breath, she nudges Henry, grinning when he looks over at her. “Do you need some gum?”

“I’m good?”

“Are you sure? Once we start dropping down toward the runway, your ears might pop.”

Henry considers it. “What flavor?”

“Spearmint and regular mint.”

“Regular mint,” Henry says, holding out his hand. “Just in case.”

Grinning she hands Henry a stick of gum, watching as he fumbles with the wrapper. “So, what do you want to do when we get to Seattle?”

“Will we have time to do stuff? We’ll only be here like two days.”

“Well, while Daniel’s working, you and I have all that time to ourselves to go sightseeing.”

Henry nods, considering it. “Well, I wanna see the Space Needle,” he says. “And Daniel said I’m not supposed to tell you but he got us tickets to the Mariners game.” A guilty little grin stretches over Henry’s lips as he shoves the gum into his mouth. “So, I guess I wanna do that, too.”

Regina’s eyes narrow. “It’s a secret?”

“Yeah. He got tickets from somebody.”

“Oh--”

“And you’re really excited?” she asks, narrowing her eyes as she remembers the time Leopold tried to take Henry to a Yankees game and half way through, he’d asked Leopold for some money to buy a slice of pizza and called her to pick him up instead. “I thought you didn’t like baseball.”

Henry shrugs dismissively. “He’s excited, so I guess I am, too.”

Regina frowns--that sounds like something she’d say.

“Well, maybe we can figure out some other stuff  _you_ want to do,” she says, trying not to dwell too much on all of the ways her own problems have influenced her son. “I’m sure the hotel we’re staying at has some of those brochures advertising different attractions. Maybe you’ll find some things in those.”

“Yeah,” Henry nods as he looks back to the window and smile. “Maybe.”

The captain of the plane announces that they need to make sure they’re in their seats, that their trays are up and that they’re buckled into their seats because in just a few short minutes, they’ll begin their descent into Seattle. Henry shoots her a look and rolls her eyes and she grins, caught red-handed in the lie she’d told him as they boarded the plane in Hartford when she told him he’d have to stay buckled in for the entire flight.

But it doesn't last long because as the plane begins to drop, Henry’s face scrunches up and he covers his ears with his hands--and when she stretches an arm around his shoulders, pulling him as closer as the confines of the plane will allow, he lets her. And as guilty she feels for being glad for her son’s discomfort, it serves the perfect distraction because as the plane touches down her last visit to Seattle and the man she came to see is the furthest thing from her mind.

When the first few rows ahead of them clear out, she reaches into the overhead compartment to grab Henry’s jacket--and when he protests, she points out the planes window, pointing to the gray skies that look like they’re about to bust open. He sighs and puts on the jacket as she grabs their carry-ons--then, drawing in a breath, she takes his hand a pulls him to the gate, laughing as he tries to pop his ears.

“Plug your nose and puff out your cheeks,” she tells him.

“What?”

Laughing she repeats it, then laughs again, as he looks to her as if she’s crazy, but nonetheless, tries it.

“Mom! Mom! I swallowed my gum.”

Her brow furrows as they come out of the gate. “You swallowed it?”

“Yeah, I gulped back some air to get my ears to pop and I swallowed it!” She grins as his eyes widen a little, completely unaware that he’s yelling. “Am I gonna get sick?”

“No.”

“But Mal told Lily if she eats her gum, it’ll stay there  _forever_ and twist around her organs and--”

“You’ll live,” she cuts in, shaking her head and laughing softly. “And your organs will be just fine.”

“But will it live in my stomach  _forever_?”

“No,” she tells him, her voice dropping an octave. “You’re gonna poop it out.”

For a moment, Henry just stares at her with wide eyes, a slack jaw. and rosy cheeks, horrified that she’s talking about his poop in public and watching as she fishes the directions that Daniel gave her to get from the airport to the hotel--and she bites down on her lip when she can’t find them, hoping she didn’t leave them on her desk at work. After all, this trip--like her previous one--had been a spur of the moment decision and she wasn’t quite prepared to be traveling.

“We might have to stay here,” she tells him, still rummaging through her purpose. “At least until Daniel’s out of his meeting.” Glancing up at him briefly, she grins. “Maybe we can grab some chili cheese fries or--”

“ _You’re_  going to let me eat chili cheese fries?”

She nods, motioning in the direction of the food court. “Yeah. I don’t know. I just saw a sign from the corner of my eye. We can get something else if you don’t--”

“No. Chili cheese fries would be  _awesome_. But… you  _never_ let me eat stuff like that.”

“We’re on vacation. Calories and cholesterol and saturated fats don’t exist on vacation.”

Henry grins. “I think I like Vacation Mom,” he tells her, just before his face falls. “Or are you just being nice to me because you know my gum is strangling my organs?!”

At that, she can’t help but laugh out as she looks to him. “Henry, if I thought something was strangling your organs, I’d have already hijacked a plane and had you halfway to the nearest hospital.”

He giggles. “True.”

“Now--”

“Daniel!”

She looks up, watching as Daniel pushes his way through the crowd, carrying a bouquet of bright pink flowers. “Hey, you! I thought I was meeting you at the hotel.”

“Change of plans,” he tells her, pressing a kiss to her cheek as she accepts the flowers. “I got out of my meeting early, so I figured I’d surprised you guys and pick you up.” Grinning, he turns to Henry and hands him a little bag. “And this is for you.”

Henry grins as he takes the bag, unrolling the top and grinning. “I don't know what  _King Caramels_  are, but I know that I’m going to eat them all before we get to the hotel.”

Regina laughs. “Thank you--for meeting us and for the flower and--”

“Those are coast rhododendrons, the State of Washington’s--”

“That sounds like a fungus,” Henry says, scrunching up his nose.

“They’re definitely not, but the place I am taking you two for lunch most certainly has fungus on the menu.”

For a moment, Henry looks grossed out--and then, he rolls his eyes. “Oh. They serve mushrooms.”

“You’ve got it.”

“So, where is this mushroom-serving place,” Regina asks, reaching for his hand. “And what else do you have planned for us?”

“Well, I was thinking we’d have lunch at this place at the Pike Place Market, then do a little sightseeing and--”

“That’s very Seattle.”

Daniel nods. “Well, since you two have never been here, I figured that was the best way to spend our time.”

Her stomach flutters and she nods, forcing as smile. “Perfect.”

Daniel gives her hand a little tug then loops his arm around Henry’s shoulders, turning them in the direction they need to go in to pick up their bags--and as they turn away from the gate, something catches her eye.

Or rather, someone.

There, just a few yards away is Robin and his son--the man she’s forced herself not to think about, the man whose mere voice attracted her, and the man she’d spent a whole day stalking. Her heart beats a little faster and she swallows hard, her stomach churning as all the things she’s refused to let herself think about since her last trip to Seattle come rushing back--and irrationally, she nearly turns herself in his direction.

But then Daniel tugs her in the opposite way and she reminds herself what a colossally bad idea it’d be to put herself in Robin’s orbit, and while she feels some deep--and probably a bit disturbing--connection to him, to him, she’s a complete stranger.

And that’s what she keeps telling herself all the way to baggage claim.


	12. Chapter 12

June 5, 1993- Seattle, Washington:

Robin is sitting out on the back deck, staring out at the backyard and the water that extends just beyond it. It’s so dark that he can’t even see the wrought iron gate that separates his yard from the coast, making it unclear where the backyard stops. The stars shimmer down onto the water and every now and then, he can see a hint of a rippling wave--and it’s all so beautifully serene.

Emma will be back tomorrow morning, and he offered to pick her up at the airport despite that her flight comes in at ungodly early hour. He figured he’d pick her up and take her for coffee, and then… rip the bandaid off, and tell her that it’s over.

He’s not sure how she’ll react and as much as he wants to soften the blow, he’s also is ready for it to be over. He’s not sure that he’s quite ready for something more serious, but he’d like to keep his options open and just see what happens.

For a moment, he’d considered the stacks upon stacks of letters from women interested in dating for him, but that’s not how he wanted it to happen--he didn't want to be forced or setup, he wanted it to be natural.

Maybe he’d meet someone at the market, he’d see someone who he was attracted for her, maybe reaching for the cantaloupes while he examined honeydew as if he really knew how to tell if he’d selected a ripe one; or maybe, they’d both reach for the same number at the meat counter or he could ask for her recommendation on a pasta sauce as they both looked at the jars lined up on the shelf in the aisle.

Or maybe, he’d see her at the airport, stepping breezily off a plane with her son, looking for something in her purse and laughing out in a musical burst.

Robins eyes press closed--obviously, the last one wouldn’t happen, but he wished that it would, or that it would have. Just over a week ago, he’d saw this beautiful woman at the airport, and he had the strangest sense that he’d seen her before. It was just a few fleeting seconds, but he felt the sort of pull, as if he was supposed to go up to her and say hello, as if he was supposed to grab an order of chili cheese fries with her and brazenly ask her if she had dinner plans, as if they were meant to have been thrown into each other’s lives at that exact moment.

Of course, that was crazy, but he couldn’t stop thinking about it--about her--and he found, he didn’t even want to try.

But he had to because just as soon as he’d taken notice of her, she’d disappear on the arm of another man--she wasn’t meant for him--and maybe, he tried to convince himself, it wasn’t really about her, at all. Maybe it was the universe sending him a sign that he was finally ready for something more, something real--maybe that woman from the airport was merely a sign that he was ready to move on, or even that he was already starting to.

That thought made him both sad and excited, and the more he thought about it, the less sad he was and the more excited he became--and he couldn’t help but think of how proud Marian would be of him for getting to this place, to reclaiming his life and pushing forward.

And that was a comforting thought.

“Hey…”

His head falls onto his shoulder as he watches Belle step out onto the patio. “Can’t sleep either?”

“No.”

“Everything okay?”

He nods. “I’m… I’m breaking up with Emma tomorrow.”

“Ahh,” Belle murmurs as she sits down on the bench beside him and pulls her feet up, hugging her knees to her chest. “That explains it.”

“Not really.”

“No?”

“No,” he admits. “I’m… not thinking about Emma right now.”

“Then who has you up at this hour?”

“I… I don’t know,” he says, glad that it's too dark for her to see the way his cheeks flush. “I don’t know her name.”

“Oh, so there  _is_  a her,” Belle says. “Is this why you’re--” She stops, her voice abruptly halting. “Wait. You don’t know her name? What do you mean?”

“I saw this woman at the airport and I can’t get her out of my head,” he says. “I know that probably sounds crazy, but--”

“It doesn’t. Well, not  _too_ crazy.”

“Thanks, but… you can call it what it is.”

“It isn’t anything, really. You saw a woman you liked, a woman you found attractive, and you’re thinking about her. That’s really not all that strange.”

“Isn’t it?”

“Maybe for you,” she says gently. “When was the last time you saw someone you were this interested in?”

“Marian,” he replies easily. “The last woman I couldn’t get out of my head was Marian.” Grinning, he looks to Belle. “Truthfully, I  _still_ can’t get Marian out of my head, so this doesn’t necessarily bode well for me.”

“Well, that’s because you had a lifetime with her built up. With this woman, it’s just… a few seconds.”

“If that.”

“I think this is a good sign,” Belle tells him. “That you’re… out there, noticing people again.”

He nods in agreement, then draws in a breath. “I… think I saw her once before.”

“So, she’s local?”

“No, not… not like that. Before, a while back…I recognized her from somewhere, even though we’ve never met before.” He scoffs. “Well, not that we met this time, either, but… you know what I mean.”

“Careful now,” Belle says, laughing gently. “You’re starting to sound like Ruby--taking things as signs and now talking about, what sounds like, reincarnation or--”

“No, no. Not… like in another life,” he interjects, chuckling softly. “I saw her one day at the beach. I was with Roland. We went to grab some bait and those cruelty-free fake hooks that dissolve in water--”

Belle laughs. “That sounds like a Roland idea.”

He nods. “It was, and… we were there, and I saw her sitting at a picnic table. She was working, it seemed. She was shuffling through papers and chewing on the cap of her highlighter, and tapping her foot against the concrete in the pavillion like she was tapping along to a beat of a song playing in her head.”

Belle grins. “Maybe she was wearing earphones?”

“No,” he grins, remembering looking for earphones because he found the whole thing so damn cute. “Then Roland and I went out to fish, and we finally caught one, and Roland was tossing it back into the water so it could be with its friends again, and… that was this whole production.”

Belle grins. “Of course it was.”

“So, as he was apologizing to the fish for interrupting its day, I looked up and… and there she was.” Belle’s brow arches. “She was standing on the dock, looking out at the water and… it looked like she was watching us.”

“Watching you and Roland?”

He nods. “She was holding her shoes, like she’d been walking in the sand, and… then…” He sighs and shakes his head a bit regretfully. “And then she noticed me looking back and she ran off.”

“And you’re sure this is the same woman you saw at the airport.”

He nods. “Positive. I’d… I’d know her anywhere.”

“You should find her.”

Robin blinks. “And how the hell do you expect me to do that? What? Should I take an ad out in the newspaper and ask all the women with dark-brown hair who like to work at picnic tables and take solo walks on the beach who also just happened to be getting picked up by her boyfriend, or better yet her husband, at the airport?” He rolls his eyes. “I sound like a stalker, like the exact sort of person any sane woman would avoid.”

Belle grins, rolling her eyes back at him. “No, I just think you should… keep an eye out for her.”

“Keep an eye out--”

“Yeah,” Belle nods. “If this woman is meant to be someone whose a part of your life--and you certainly seem to think she’s meant to be--then, you’ll find her again. Eventually.”

“Now you’re the one who sounds like Ruby.”

Belle grins. “Well. There is a reason I fell so head-over-heels in love with her.” She shrugs as Robin grins. “She makes a lot of sense to me.”

“Yeah--”

“And I think  _this woman_  seems to make a lot of sense to you.” She grins. “Keep your eyes open and… and good luck tomorrow.”

“Thanks,” he murmurs, nodding as he looks back to the water. “Do you think Emma will be… hurt?”

“I mean it never feels good to get dumped, but...nah, she wasn’t in it for the long term either, and I think she enjoyed it for what it was.”

“Yeah, I did, too,” he replies, his thoughts drifting back to the dark-haired woman from the airport, thinking of the way she laughed out and  the way she smiled at the little boy she was with, and he wishes he’d been standing just a little bit closer so that he might have had the chance to at least say hello.

_____

June 5, 1993- Greenwich, Connecticut:

Regina grins as she watches Mal come into the coffeeshop, watching as she bristles and looks to the menu, quickly placing her order, tapping her foot impatiently as she waits for the barista to make her drink.

“I swear to god, you can not let Henry grow up,” Mal says, sliding into the seat across from her. “He needs to be a fifth grader forever.”

“Well, technically, he isn’t a fifth grader anymore,” she replies. “Summer break started today, so he’s basically a sixth grader.” At that she shudders a bit. “He’ll be in middle school in the fall.”

“Well, we’re going to have to figure something out because him being anything other than the sweet, adorable little boy he is now is absolutely unacceptable to me.”

Regina grins. “You’ll get no complaint from me, but… I think Henry’s going to put up a fight.” Pausing, she groans. “Henry and puberty.”

“No, he’s not allowed to go through puberty. It changes them, Regina. That’s where it all goes wrong. It turns cute little kids into demons.

“What did Lily do now?”

“It’s the first damn day of summer and she’s trying to seduce the pool boy at our building. You should have seen the bathing suit she  _thought_ she was going to wear to the pool this morning.”

“Mal, she’ll be sixteen in a month. Of course she wants a summer fling with a cute--”

“Twenty-three year old?”

“Oh.” Her brow furrows and her nose scrunches. “He’s twenty-three and a pool boy? None of that sounds good.”

Mal’s eyes roll. “Apparently, he’s going to grad school in the fall--and apparently his name is Blake and apparently he has incredible abs and a tight butt that my teenage daughter, apparently, can’t stop thinking about.” Britistling, she sips her coffee. “But if he lays a finger, or  _anything else_  on my baby girl, he won’t make it to grad school and his signature accomplishment will be mixing chlorine into a pool to kill bacteria.”

“Well, if you need me to talk to her--”

“Would you? She likes you. She hates me.”

“Yeah, of course.”

Mal draws in a breath and take another sip of her coffee. “So, I just realized you and I never talked about your second little impromptu trip to Seattle. How it go?”

Regina sighs. “Well, uneventful, really.”

“Oh--”

“So, better than the first impromptu trip.”

“You didn’t have fun?”

“It was… like being here just with different restaurants and a hotel instead of my townhouse.”

“Oh, that’s…” Mal frowns. “You didn’t… do anything fun?”

“Well, to be fair, Daniel was there for work and he  _did_ take Henry and me to a baseball game.”

“But Henry hates baseball.”

Regina nods, remembering how Henry’s enthusiasm for the Mariners game made her uncomfortable because it was so clearly something he  _thought_ he was supposed to enjoy for Daniel's benefit, and he hadn’t wanted to disappoint him. “He… wanted to give it another try.’

“And?”

“He looked like he was watching Lily paint her nails.”

Mal grimaces. “Oh, and did he… say something?”

“No,” she says, her voice tentative to try to mask her annoying--mostly because can’t quite place what it is about the whole situation that makes her so annoyed. “He said he had fun. He said he didn’t want to make Daniel feel bad about it, so--”

“Regina--”

“I know,” she sighs. “I… need to… talk to him about it.”

“He’s doing what you do.”

“I know, but it’s different because Daniel didn’t  _mean_ to--”

“Regina, this is a simple fix, you know that, right? You know that Daniel isn’t going to be upset if Henry doesn't like baseball. He’s not Leo, he’s not--”

“I know,” she cuts in, not wanting to push the topic farther. “I’ll talk to him. I just…” She stops and sighs, and shifts the focus of the conversation. “I saw him again.”

“What?”

“Sleepless in Seattle,” she says. “I saw him at the airport.”

“You saw Robin?”

She nods. “He had his son with him.”

“Did you talk to him?”

“Of course not.”

“Did he see you?”

“I hope not,” she admits. “I’d hate for him to see me  _again_ , and--”

“You really think he remember you that specifically? Even if he did see you standing on the dock, he was too far away to actually recognize you.”

“That’s true,” she nods, feeling… something she can’t quite figure out, as she rubs her fingers over the plastic rim of her coffee cup. “I…keep thinking about him, Mal. The whole time I was in Seattle, everywhere we went, I just kept wondering if I’d run into him again, and… and what it’d be like to hear his voice in person, and… and…” Her voice trails off. “And what a great story that’d be to tell our grandkids, how the universe just kept throwing us into each other’s orbits and--” Her face falls into her hands as its redens, and she can’t believe she said that aloud, even to her best friend. “Oh my god, what’s wrong with me? Who have I become?

“I know you don’t believe in signs or fate or anything like that, Regina,” Mal beings in a soft voice that doesn't contain even a hint of laughter. “But you have to see what this is.”

Nodding,. She looks up. “It’s the makings of an obsession.”  
  


“Regina--”

“No, really. This is the PG-13 version of  _Fatal Attraction_.”

Mal grins. “Or the modern version of  _An Affair to Remember._ ”

“At least in  _both_ of those movies the couple in question had at least had a conversation. Mal, this is all in my head. This is… is practically Norman Bates level of crazy.”

Mal frowns. “Reigna, you’re being too hard on yourself.”

“You really think this is  _normal_?”

Mal shrugs. “I think falling in love is about the most normal yet extraordinary thing there is--and it happens differently for everyone. For some people, the universe throws you together in the grocery store or at work or gives you common friends who set you up, then for other people, it’s… it’s something like the way someone’s voice makes you feel or a spark that jolts your heart when your hands touch or the way your heart beats out of rhythm when you see the person across a crowded room.”

“Or airport?”

“Exactly.”

“Mal, this is  _crazy_.”

“It is,” Mal agrees. “But love is crazy.”

“I’m engaged. I shouldn’t--”

“Regina, owe it to yourself to figure this out. You came so close, and then you literally threw it all away because you got scared.” Mal offers a soft grin as Regina’s shoulders square defensively as she takes a long sip of her coffee. “I think it  _means something_  that you saw him again and I think it  _means something_  that you can’t get him out of your head. The universe is trying to tell you something. All these things are signs and--”

“I don’t believe in signs.”

“I know.” Mal sighs, “And that’s probably why fate’s knocking you over the head with a two-by-four right now.”

Regina's eyes fall to her coffee cup and her stomach aches. “So...what do you think I should do?”

“Reach out to him,” she says, immediately. “Call him. Write to him.  _Do something_ about this.”

“What if he thinks I’m crazy?” she asks, her voice barely audible as she lifts her eyes to meet Mal’s.

“I think the question you should be asking, Reigna, is what if he  _doesn’t_?”


	13. Chapter 13

August 25, 1993- Seattle, Washington

Robin smiles as he lifts his wedding picture off the mantle and looks at it--examining every detail, from their smiles to their entwined fingers to the tears salty glittering in his eyes. Marian was in head-to-toe white lace, and he remembers how she’d called herself a jar of marshmallow fluff just before the picture that he was now looking at was taken.

It wasn’t one of the posed shots in front of the church, but a candid shot that the photographer had taken once the rest of the pictures were done to use the last exposure on the roll of film--and he loved it it. He loved it for her candor and its spontaneity. He loved it for capturing what it was like between them when it was just the two of them, and he loves it because it was how he remembered Marian. 

A week before their anniversary had come and gone. The first anniversary without Mairan, he’d been inconsolable, but this one was different. He decided to take Roland out to a nice restaurant that had candles on the table and fancy tablecloths. Ruby and Belle dressed him up in a suit and a bow tie, and they’d combed his hair so that his unruly curls were tame, and he’d cukled slightly when the host at the restaurant offered Roland a telephone book to sit on. They both had lasagna and a big salad, and he’d let Roland order his own desert--a huge molten lava cake that was served with two scoops of vanilla ice cream and had dark chocolate swirls decorating the plate--and all through dinner, they told their favorite stories about Marian.

And for the first time since she died, his memories of her were more sweet than bitter, and to his great surprise, that realization didn’t bother him. Instead, he thought she’d be happy to know that he and Roland were happy.

Settling the picture back on the mantle, he draws in a deep breath and asks Marian to help him through the coming conversation with their son--a conversation that he’d been putting off for far too long.

“Hey,” he murmurs, knocking gently on the door. “Can I come in?”

Roland pauses his game and Robin’s brow furrows as the little character’s foot pauses against another character’s throat as he stops in the middle of a roundhouse kick. “Uh, what are you playing?”

“Mortal Kombat.”

“I don’t remember buying you that game.”

“I borrowed it from Gus. His mom lets him play stuff like this.”

“Ah, whereas I don’t, so--”

Roland nods. “You said it was too violent to buy.”

“So, you thought you’d borrow it and that’d be okay?”

Roland shrugs. “You didn’t say I couldn’t borrow the game, just that we couldn’t buy it.”

“Oh. Right.” Robin frowns a she looks between the TV screen and his son, and he decides that’s a different battle for a different day. “Um, can you turn that off? There's something we need to talk about.” Easily, Roland gets up from his bean bag chair and turns off the TV, then  as Robin sits down on the edge of the bed, Roland crawls up beside him, looking to him with big, expectant eyes. “So, I’ve been doing some thinking…”

“Thinking is good. Last year, my teacher always said you should always think before you say something important.”

Robin grins, then shifts, feeling a bit awkward. “That’s.,.that's good advice, but… um, this is a bit different. It’s not necessarily something I need to say, like a speech, but… something I’m curious about.”

“Okay,” Roland says, nodding--and suddenly, he looks so much like his mother.

“So, I think I… want to start dating again,” he begins in a tentative voice. “Seriously this time.”

“Okay…”

“And I know you really didn't like Emma, but--”

“I didn't know Emma.”

“Well, you didn’t really--”

“She wasn’t right for you, dad.”

He blinks. “That’s true, but… I wondering how much of your feelings toward Emma were more about not being ready for me to start dating.”

“What do you mean?” Roland asks, his brow furrowing as he looks up at him.

“Well, if I start to date, that means I could, potentially one day, maybe… get married again.”

“I know.”

“You’d… be okay with that?”

Roland considers it for a moment, then nods. “Lots of people have stepmoms and stepdads and step-siblings and step-grandparents and--”

“Yeah,” Robin cuts in. “That’s true. Lots of people do, but  _you_ don’t.”

“But I could.”

“Yeah, you could…”

Roland grins and then bites down on his lips. “You wouldn’t marry someone I didn’t like, right?”

“Never.”

“Would you marry someone who had kids already?”

“Maybe.”

“Cool,” Roland says, rolling to the other side of the bed. “I wanna show you something.”

Robin watches as Roland pulls open his nightstand, pushing some things around as he searches for something. He pulls out a yo-yo and a handful of tiny, green plastic army men and he dumps them on top of the nightstand, and Robin cranes his neck to see if he can see into the drawer, making a mental note to have him clean it out after dinner, and wondering what his other drawers look like.

“Found it!”

“Found what?”

“This!” Roland says, brandishing a white envelope with a red metallic edge. “I saved it!”

“Saved… what?” Robin asks as his son rolls to the other side of the bed. ‘Roland, what--”

“It’s a letter! From Regina Mills.” Robin’s eyes press closed and he sighs. He’d forgotten about Roland’s obsession with one of the women who’d written to him, wanting to meet him, after he’d called into Doctor Hopper’s radio program. “If you’re gonna date, you should date her!”

“Roland--”

“Dad, she’s  _perfect_ for you.”

“You don’t know that.”

“But I do. Just read her letter and you’ll see for yourself!”

“Roland, I…”

“Dad, please just read it.”

Opening his eyes he sighs and takes the letter, looking down at the front corner where the woman’s address is written. “Roland, she lives in Connecticut.”

“So what?”

“So, that’s really far away. It’s on the other side of the country. That’s three-thousand miles.”

“So?” Roland says, shrugging his shoulders. “That’s why there are planes.”

“I’m not going to buy a plane ticket to take a woman out to dinner.”

“Why not?”

“Because I--”

“They run sales and stuff, on plate tickets. Sometime you can get ‘em for real cheap and--”

Robins brow furrows, momentarily distracted by his son’s knowledge of airline sales. “How do you know that?”

“Gus’s dad is a travel agent.”

“Oh,” Robin murmurs. “That’s… that’s right.” His eyes narrow as he remembers having to pick up Gus one day from school because his mom was meeting with a client and they were in the middle of talking about the what awaited her in the Bahamas. “I thought his mom was a travel agent.”

Roland shakes his head. “No, his mom’s a psychic.”

Robin blinks--he hadn’t expected that. “Oh.”

“She read Regina’s letter.”

“Gus’s psychic mom read this letter? You showed it to her?”

“Dad, she already knew about it. She asked about all the mail you were getting.” His eyes widen. “She knew about our mail.”

It takes everything in him not to roll his eyes. “It sounds like she would really get along with your Aunt Ruby.”

“She does. She and Aunt Ruby talk all the time when she goes to my soccer practices.”

“Oh, and um… what does Gus’s psychic mom who is apparently friends with your Aunt Ruby have to say about my mail?”

“That you and Regina are made for each other.”

“Regina--”

“The lady who wrote the letter,” Roland says, sighing and shake his head. “Follow along, dad.” Robin blinks and his brows arch at Roland’s sassiness. “Dad, will you please just read the letter?”

Nodding, Robin draws in a breath. “Okay, listen. How about this? How about I see how I do on my own dating--”

“You already tried that. It didn't go well.”

“Well, I… I wasn't…” He stops. “That was Belle and Ruby’s fault.” Roland’s eyes roll at his deflection, and he draws in a breath, to try again. “Let me see how I can do now that I’m ready to date and think I know what i want, and… if it doesn't go well, I’ll read this latter.”

“And contact her?”

“One step at a time, okay?” Roland frowns, but nods as he leans in and presses a quick kiss to the top of his head. “Can I keep this? Can I keep the letter?”

“Well, technically, it’s yours, so… I guess so,” Roland says “And just in case you throw it out or rip it up for something, you should know that I made copies.”

Blinking, Robin nods, kissing him again as he gets up. “I’m making tacos for lunch.”

“You’re making tacos? Like… by yourself?”

Robin nods. “It’s a new thing I’m trying.”

“Oh--”

“And if they’re terrible we’ll go get burgers or pizza or--”

“Lasagna.”

Robin offers him a wink. “Maybe,” he murmurs as he gets off them bed. “We’ll see. Hopefully we won’t have to get anything because the tacos will be good.”

“Yeah… maybe,” Roland says skeptically, making him laugh as he leaves--and as soon as he heads down the hall, away from Roland’s bedroom, he thinks to throw away the letter, telling himself that he has no interest in having a penpal in Connecticut. But then, by the time he reaches the bottom of the stairs, he decides against it, instead tucking the letter into the napkin holder where he keeps the rest of his important mail, and then drawing in a breath, he places the electric bill in front of it to hide it.

_____

August 25, 1993- Greenwich, Connecticut:

For the entire summer, she’s been trying--and miserably failing--to write a simple letter.

But every attempt ended in frustration.

Really, that was the theme of the summer--frustrated and failing miserably.

Since ditching the article idea--literally throwing everything in the trash at the Tacoma-Seattle airport--she’d been completely uninspired. Not only could she not write this letter, she couldn’t write anything. She’d attempted to do a watered-down version, thinking if she did  _something_ she could move on, and a week or so, she thought she had it all figured out.

She’d written an article about the catharsis that could come with talking to strangers. Doctor Hopper’s radio show had been one of the many examples she used and she only mentioned vague references to the Sleepless in Seattle show that she now knew by heart. However, when it was done, it wasn’t at all what she wanted to be, and in the end, turned out to be an article singing the praises of group therapy.

Gold had sent it on to be published, but was quite displeased, telling her to _do better next time_ , and of course, she’d nodded in agreement, promising that she would.

But at this point, she was no longer sure there would be a next time.

Annoyed, she pushes back the keyboard and leans back in her desk chair, pressing her eyes closed as she draws in long and deliberate breaths. None of this should be this hard. It was  _just_ a letter, and one that he’d probably never even read--and if he wasn’t going to bother even reading it, she shouldn’t care about sounding like a complete loon.

But she did care, and that was the problem--in fact, this was  _all_ she seemed to care about.

Like any normal, recently-engaged person, Daniel had started to push her to make wedding plans. But whenever they talked about settling on a date or picking out something as simple as a color scheme, her chest would tighten to the point she felt like she was suffocating, and she had to change the subject.

She told him that she was too stressed out about her lack of creativity and inspiration at work to make any big decisions, and she told him that until she figured things out, she wanted to take things slowly--after all, she didn’t want to rush to make a decision and end up making the wrong one. When she said that, there’d been something in his eyes--a little flicker of something--that made her feel uncomfortable, but he hadn’t said anything about it. Instead, he leaned in and pressed a kiss to her cheek and told her to take all the time she needed; after all, they had the rest of their lives to figure out how to get things just right.

Opening her eyes, she looks to the clock on the desk, her brows arching the realization that its nearly three in the morning, and her alarm will be going off in three short hours.

Sighing, she turns off the computer and flicks off the light, heading down the hall and peeking into Henry’s room--and when she finds him, curled up in bed and loosely hugging his favorite stuffed bear--a bear he’d recently  _insisted_ he was too old to sleep with--tucked loosely under his arm. She smiles and tip-toes into the room, turning off his lamp and pulling the covers up a little higher before leaning in and kissing the top of his head.

Pulling back, she hovered there, just watching him sleep, basking in the serenity her sleeping baby boy always brought to her--and she chuckled softly, wishing she could somehow bottle that feeling.

When she reaches her own room, Daniel is in bed with the light still on. He’s still wearing his glasses and his book--a new biography they’d gotten on a weekend trip into New York City a week before. Gently, she takes off his glasses and climbs into bed beside him, and slowly pulls the book away from him, staring down at the cover.

 _The Man Who Wasn’t Maigret: A Portrait of Georges Simenon_ , she reads, blinding down at a black and white image of a man she can only assume is Georges Simenon. Flipping open the cover, she reads the dust jacket, reading about an author who’d been an incredibly prolific writer and a bit of a ladies man. She smiles and rolls her eyes at his claim to had made love to 10,000 women and she scoffs at the notion that he--somehow--loved them all.

“I can’t even manage with two--”

She stops, her eyes widening as she looks to Daniel, praying that he didn’t hear her--and then, she looks back at the book jacket, staring at it, but no longer reading.

Two, she thinks to herself--she’s in love with  _two_?

The admission was a surprise to even her and her mind quickly worked to undo it--it wasn’t possible to love someone you’d never met, it wasn’t possible to love someone you’d only seen from afar, and it wasn’t possible to love someone who wasn’t aware that you were even alive.

That wasn’t love. That was obsession. That was… something else, entirely.

Love was something that was built, something that happened over time--it didn't happen simply by hearing a story on the radio.

Tears fill her eyes as she closes the book and sets it down on the nightstand, tapping off the lamp and sending the room into darkness as she told herself that she was just tired--overly tired--and her mind was playing tricks on her. That was a much better explanation that actually being in love with an absolute stranger.

Pulling up the covers, she closed her eyes, forcing her tears out from the sides of her eyes--and when her eyes closed, images of him flooded her. His smile and him laughing with his son, him holding his son as he helped him reel in a fish and the way he listened intently as his son talked. She saw his dimples and the slightly graying hair at his temples, and those arms--and then, she saw herself calling out to him, and though it was nothing more than fantasy, she saw him smiling back at her and offering a little wave that made her heart flutter.

Her eyes fly open as she looks to Daniel sleeping beside her--and when she looks at him, all she feels is guilt.

Sitting up, she hesitates momentarily before getting out of bed and padding down the hall to her office. She flicks on the light and sits back down in her chair, pressing her fingers to the keyboard as she boots up the computer--and suddenly, she has an idea.

_This past Christmas, I listened to a radio program that changed my life, she writes._

_I don’t even remember making the conscious decision to listen to the show, I don’t even remember why I was in the kitchen. But neither of those things really matter in the story--what matters is the way that one episode changed my entire life._

_Just like that._

_One hour of listening to a complete stranger changed absolutely everything._

Narrowing her eyes as she reads back the little bit she wrote, tapping her fingers impatiently on the edge of the keyboard as she does--and then, the words begin to flow.

She explains how she felt when she listened to the program--sad for the man and his son, a bit envious of the beautiful relationship he shared with his wife, angry that he’d had to lose that. She explains how his story stayed with her, floating around in her head and coming to her at the most inopportune of times. She explains how she found herself thinking about this man and his son, wondering how they were doing and if they were okay, and she explains how that curiosity turned into something more.

She’s gone through a gamut of adjectives to describe what that something more was, and still, she didn’t understand it. But whatever it was, it changed her world view. It changed who she was, and she suspected that would continue to change her in ways that she can’t yet imagine. His story became a part of her, connecting them to one another, even if he was unaware. For months, she thought of this as a bad thing, but really, it wasn’t--human connection is something we all strive for, something we seek out and without it, we’re incomplete. Those connections can mean different things for different people--it can be a common understanding, it can be a friendship between kindred spirits, and for some, it can be love.

She leaves it there for a moment, reading it again and again, as she tries to get ahold of what she’s feeling--and then, she launches into a bit she knows Mal would be proud of--and as she starts it, she laughs a little, picturing Mal eyebrow jutting up as she gives her the I told you so look she’s so good at shooting her way.

_Magic isn’t always card tricks or pulling rabbits out of hats. Sometimes, it’s something subtler. Sometimes it’s when your friend swings by with a carton of ice cream because you’ve had a bad day or your ten year old, suddenly deciding he wants to cuddle as the two of you watch a movie together; and sometimes, it’s someone coming into your life exactly when you need them to, even if you don’t yet know why that is._

She exhales a breath, and saves the document.

It’s not perfect, but it’s the most cohesive thing she’s written in months--and just knowing that it’s there makes her feel better. Maybe she’ll never send it to Gold, maybe it’ll live there on her on her computer forever, or maybe it’ll up on her column for the magazine.

But regardless, she’s found a way to sort out her thoughts and her feelings, and makes sense of them--and for right now, that’s all that matters.


	14. Chapter 14

September 2, 1993- Seattle, Washington

Roland fidgets as he sits on top of the toilet seat watching as Robin shaves.

This isn’t something out of the ordinary; in fact, it’s hard to remember a morning that didn’t involved his son perched somewhere in the bathroom, watching him shave and brush his teeth. What  _is_ out of the ordinary, however, is the fact that it’s nearly seven in the evening and he’s getting ready for a blind date.

He hadn’t quite expected this, and truthfully, he wasn’t quite sure how he felt about it; but it was the first time he felt compelled to ask a woman out and the risk had been relatively low.

The night before, he’d been at the pharmacy. He had a list of things he needed to get--Roland’s shampoo and toothpaste, bandaids and some neosporin, and a new pack of razor blades and some shaving cream for himself. At first, he didn’t even notice her standing beside him and staring helplessly at the aftershave--then, a bit nervously, she asked if he could recommend something.

She was a single mom and her son, who was fifteen, needed to start shaving and she was overwhelmed with choices. He’d helped her pick out a few things, explaining what he liked, especially when he was young--and then, they got to talking. He told her about Roland and she pointed to the No More Tears shampoo in his cart and confessed that she missed those days.

He grinned and nodded, and kept the conversation going--and as it dwindled down, he asked if she’d like to have coffee with him the following evening--and he held his breath, momentarily as she considered, then, to his relief she nodded and told him she’d like that.

“Come here,” Robin says, motioning to Roland and grinning as he scoots closer to the sink. “Closer.”

“Like this?”

“Closer,” he says again.

“Dad,” Roland giggles, “If I scoot over anymore, I’ll fall off.”

Laughing, Robin reaches for him, grabbing him by the arms and lifting him up, peppering his cheeks with kisses as he sets him down on the counter. Roland giggles again as Robin reaches for his shaving cream, filling his palm and smearing it over the boy’s cheeks. “Perfect.”

“I look like Santa Claus!” Robin grins as he hands him a bladeless razor--and Roland’s eyes light up with excitement  “I get to shave? Really?”

“Well, your marshmallow fluff beard isn’t the most becoming look.”

Leaning over, Roland examines himself in the mirror. “How do I do it?”

“Alright,” Robin says, turning him and standing beside him. “You're going to take the razor--”

“Does it have a blade?”

“Nah--”

“Good,” Roland says with a serious nod. “It’d look stupid if I went to school with little patches of toilet paper all over my face if I cut myself up.”

“There’s a way to avoid that,” Robin says. “It’s not foolproof, but--”

“What does that mean?” Roland asks, looking at him with wide eyes through the mirror.

“It means it's hard to mess up.”

“Oh--”

“So, you’re gonna take the razor and press it to your cheek.”

Roland nods, and does. “Like this.”

“Perfect.”

“Then what?”

“Drag it down, so you go with the grain.”

“You mean the hair?”

“Yeah,” Robin nods, watches as Roland starts to drag the razor over his cheek. “Yeah, with the hair you don’t have.” Roland giggles as he turns on the sink, yelping when the cold water touches his toes. “Rinse off your razor and do it again.” Roland does as he’s told and smiles proudly as he continues to remove the shaving cream covering his cheeks. “So, um… you’re okay with this?”

“With shaving?” Roland asks, again looking at him through the mirror. “Yeah! It’s fun!”

Robin takes a breath. “No, um… um… with me going on a date. We didn’t really talk about me dating with Emma, and that didn’t go so well.”

“I don’t mind you dating,” Roland says--and almost immediately, he feels his shoulders relax. “I just wish you’d date Regina?”

“That woman from Connecticut?”

“Did you even read her letter?”

“Well--”

“Dad!” Roland exclaims, turning to face him. “That was the  _whole point_  of you taking it!”

Robin sighs. It feels like they’ve been through this a hundred times--and each time, it just goes in circles. “I just think it’d be a lot easier to date someone who, you know, lives on this side of the country.”

Roland nods, frowning as he considers it. “So, this other woman… is she your girlfriend?”

“No.”

“Do you want her to be?”

“I don’t know. That’s why I’m taking her out tonight.”

“Oh,” Roland murmurs, again dragging the razor over his cheek. “How am I doing?”

“Great.”

“Cool,” he says, grinning. “So, if she does become your girlfriend, does that mean you’re gonna have sex with her?”

Robin nearly chokes on his own tongue, making sound that’s something between a cough and a scream. “Roland! How… why….” He grimaces. “How do you know what that is?”

“Gus got cable.”

HIs eyes widen as he stares at his son. “Does Gus’s mom know what you two are watching?”

Roland shrugs. “Who do you think is watching stuff where people are having sex?”

Robin’s eyes widen. “I… don’t think you should go over there anymore.”

“It’s not graphic… there’s no naked butts or anything like that,” Roland says, his face suddenly serious. “Just like… a lot of screaming and clawing at each other.” He frowns. “It kinda looks like a bear attack.”

Robin swallows hard and grabs a towel, cleaning the rest of the shaving cream off of Roland’s cheeks. “You know who would  _love_ to talk to you about this?” Roland shakes his head. “Your aunts. Why don’t you go see what they’re up to?”

“Somehow I  _seriously_ doubt that’s true.”

Nonetheless, he hops down off of the counter and runs down the stairs, calling Belle and Ruby’s names--and Robin takes a long, deep breath as she stares in the mirror, wondering what the hell just happened. Then, as he stares at himself, he starts to laughs--there’s no way his date could be any worse than the moment he just experienced, and somehow, that sets him at ease.

_____

September 2, 1993- Greenwich, Connecticut:

Regina sighs, looking up at Henry as he spins around and around and around in her desk chair, his feet hitting the side of her desk, every time he rounds it--and every time his foot hits the side of the desk, it breaks her concentration and she loses her spot in the article she’s editing.

“Can you… not doing that.”

“Mom, I’m bored.”

“I know. We won’t be here for much longer.”

“Can I go to the vending machine?” he asks, still spinning. “Please?”

“No, you’ve already had two snacks. I don’t want you to spoil your dinner.”

“I’ll still eat dinner if I get some doritos.”

“Henry--”

“Moooom--”

“Henry. I’m almost done,” she sighs, trying not to let her frustration show. “Don’t you have homework.”

“Nope. It’s the second day of school. They don’t give us homework yet.”

“Oh--”

“We haven’t done anything.”

“Right. Well, maybe you could play--”

“Batteries are dead,” he supplies in a flat voice.

“Or draw something,” she says, brightening a bit. “It’s been such a long time since you’ve drawn me a picture to hang up on my wall.”

Henry blinks. “Seriously? I’m too old for stuff like that.”

Regina frowns, feeling a little hurt and doing her best to brush off her feelings. “Hey,” she murmurs, catching a glimpse of Mal’s desk from the corner of her eye. “Why don’t you go spin in Mal’s chair?” Finally, Henry stops spinning and looks at her. “Hers was oiled recently. I bet it goes faster… and I bet she’s got some candy in her top left drawer.”

Henry considers it and shrugs, giving the chair one final spin before getting up and running out into the empty office. She laughs as her son plops down in Mal’s desk chair and starts to spin--and then she smiles at the quiet that over takes her office and returns her attention to a review of… something.

“Damn it,” she sighs, realizing she’s read the same introduction over and over again and still doesn’t have the slightest idea what the article is about. Groaning, she rubs her hands over her eyes and starts again, but still, she can’t concentrate--and of course she’s the only editor left in the building the day before they publish.

She grumbles a few choice phrases as she moves back to her desk, leaning back in the chair and again trying to focus on the article as she chews on her pen cap--and to her dismay, Henry wasn’t the issue. The article was. She makes a few comments in the margin and then gets out a notepad, listing some questions she’ll need to go over with Sidney in the morning--and then, as she gets to the middle of the article, she comes to the realization that it needs more work than she initially thought, and she’ll have to find something else to publish in its place.

Tapping her fingers against her desk, she looks at the articles laid out in order and then, taking quick glance up to check on her son, she reaches for the phone and quickly dials Mal’s home number.

It’s rings a couple of times before Lily answers and she laughs softly when Lily yells for Mal--who, judging by Mal’s response, was only a few feet away.

“I need a favor--a huge favor,” she says, grimacing, knowing that Mal was looking forward to going home nad taking a hot bath. “And I would like to remind you that you’re my best friend in the whole world and--”

“What do you want Regina?”

“I need you to write something else.”

“Regina--”

“I know, but that new writer that Gold hired is  _terrible_. I can’t edit this, it isn’t something publishable and I don’t have anything else that can fill the spot.” There’s a long pause on the other end, and she knows that Mal wants to say no. “I’ll order Chinese and--”

“Fine,” Mal sighs. “But I’m bringing Lily.”

Reigna grins. “You say that likes it's a punishment for me. I like Lily, remember?”

“How about we trade? My teenage nightmare for your adorable son.”

“Uh, oh. What did she do this time?”

Mal groans. “I’ll tell you  _all_ about it when we get there.” Regina laughs as she looks up, her brow furrowing as she watches Henry mulling around in Mal’s desk, presumably looking for the candy. “Want me to pick up the Chinese?”

“That would be  _amazing_. We’re starving over here.”

“Henry still like Orange Chicken?”

She nods. “And get him an extra egg roll. He’s about to gnaw on the corner of your desk.”

Mal laughs. “Anything for Henry.”

“You spoil him.”

“And you want your usual?”

“Of course.”

“Okay, I’ll have Lily put in the order while I get dressed.”

‘Ooh, you were the bath--”

“No,” Mal sighs. “Hadn’t quite gotten there yet. Again, it goes with what I’m going to tell you.”

“I look forward to it,” Regina laughs as she hangs up, and her brow furrows as she looks to Henry sitting still at Mal’s desk, reading something.“Henry,” she calls. “Don’t go through her stuff! It’s rude and you could lose something important.”

He hesitates for a moment then shoves whatever he’d been looking at back into the drawer, yelling back a quick  _sorry_ as he resumes spinning in her chair. She grins and shakes her head as she focuses back to the articles laid out on her desk, rearranging them again and again, as she looks for some sort of common theme, thinking that perhaps, that’ll make it easier for her and Mal to come up with something. Leaning back in her chair, she closes her eyes, still trying to think of  _something_. Her stomach rumbles, and she wonders if all of this will be easier on a full stomach.

Reaching behind herself, she flips on the radio, rolling her shoulders as she tries to relax--and as soon as the radio is on Sleepless in Seattle’s voice is coming through the speakers.

Her heart starts beating a little faster, but as she listens to his soft voice and that gorgeous accent, she finds her shoulders loosening. She smiles a little to herself as she listens, practically mouthing the words along with him, as she pictures him laughing with his son.

“Mom? What are you listening to?”

“N-nothing, Henry,” she says a bit too quickly as she sits up. “It’s just, um… a tape I recorded for a story I was thinking about writing.”

“Did you write it?”

“No, I, um… I lost interest.”

Henry’s brow arches with skepticism. “Really? Because you looked like you were really into it.”

“No,” she lies, shaking her head. “I just.. I was thinking about someone.”

“Oh,” he murmurs, grinning softly at her before looking back into the empty office and in the direction of Mal’s desk. “If you say so.”

Bristling, she reaches behind herself and turning off the radio, sighing as Sleepless in Seattle’s voice fades away. “Um, Mal and Lily are coming.”

“They are?” he asks, brightening. “With food?”

“Chinese.”

Henry practically beams. “Did you get me--”

“Orange chicken and an extra egg roll.”

“YESSSSS!” She laughs as he fidgets, his excited grin fading a bit. “Hey, mom. Can I ask you something?”

“Sure, you can.”

“Do you believe in fate?”

Regina’s eyes narrow. “What were you looking at?”

“Nothing. Just an old draft of something that was stuck in Mal’s drawer.” He hesitates for a moment, chewing at his lips. “Do you?”

Drawing in a breath, Regina hold her hand out to him, grinning as he crosses the office. She reaches for his hand and tugs him to her, smiling as he laughs and squirms when she pulls him onto her lap. “I don’t know,” she admits. “I never used to, but…” she shrugs as she loosens her hold on him. “I’m not so sure of that anymore.”

“Oh.”

“Do you?”

He nods. “I think so?”

“Yeah?” she ask, her fingers tickling his sides. “Do you?”

Henry laughs out, practically screaming as she tickles him--and by the time she lets him go, he’s red-faced and breathless, giggling as he pants, and likely no longer thinking about fate or the man on the radio or whatever he found in Mal’s desk.


	15. Chapter 15

October 9, 1993- Seattle, Washington:

Roland’s eyes widen as he pulls a letter from Connecticut from the mailbox. His smile is immediate and his first impulse is to run inside and make his dad open it--and then, his smile fades. His dad hasn’t even opened that first and perfect letter; he probably wouldn’t open this one.

Forgetting about the rest of the mail, he examines the envelope. It’s not as nice as the first one--the envelope is just plain white--and the handwriting on the front looks very different. He flips it over, again, checking the return address and he notices the same apple stamp as the first--and that detail makes him grin again.

Chewing at his lip, he debates what he should do, and with a groan, he examines it again--and this time, he realizes that the envelope isn’t addressed to Robin Locksley, it’s addressed to him, to  _Roland Locksley_.

A tight but excited grin stretches over his lips as he stares down at it, and he can barely contain himself. It’s rare that he ever gets mail, and even rarer that he gets something  _this_ exciting.

He looks at it one last time before he shoves it into his back pocket and reaches for the rest of the mail, knowing that his dad will be suspicious if he comes back empty handed.

“Dad! Dad, I got the--”

He stops, listening as his dad and Belle talk in low, whispery voices.

“No, we’re not going out again,” he says with a little sigh. “It just… didn’t feel right.”

“I’m sure you’ll meet someone soon,” Belle says, her voice calm and soothing as she talks to his dad the way she talks to him whenever he gets a bad grade at school or has a dream that makes him uncomfortable. “There are tons of women out there.”

“Yeah,” he whispers, tip-toeing closer to the living room and peering around the wall. “Like Regina.”

“I know,” Robin says, chuckling softly. “I just forgot how  _exhausting_ dating was.”

“You’re tellin’ me.”

Robin’s eyes roll. “You and Ruby have been together for  _years_.”

“That doesn't mean finding her was easy.”

Robin grins. “I seem to remember you coming over from your very first date with her and proclaiming to me and Marian that you’d found the person you were going to spend the rest of your life with.”

“Details,” Belle says, shrugging dismissively. “Still doesn't mean finding her wasn’t rough.”

“I got the mail,” Roland announces a bit too loudly as Robin’s eyes roll. “Nothing exciting,” he says grinning as he drops down the stack. “Just bills and coupons and stuff.”

“Oh--”

“Nothing worth reading.”

Robin’s eyes narrow.

“Well, I’ve got homework to do. So, um… I should, uh… get on that.”

“Yeah, you… should,” Robin calls, watching as he runs off, taking the stairs two at a time.

He gets to his room and shuts the door, pressing his back to it and sliding down, so that if anyone tries to open it, the door will get stuck and he’ll have time to hide the letter.

Grinning, he pulls it out of the envelope. It’s thicker than the last time, he realizes as he tears it open.

And the first thing he notices is that there are three parts. The first--and the one he reads first--has a yellow post it note on it that says “For Sleepless in Seattle.”

_Dear Sleepless in Seattle,_

_My name is Henry. I am Regina’s son._

Roland grins--responding to this letter will be much easier. He won’t need Gus or the thesaurus to look up big, impressive words like he did the last time.

_My mom is a journalist and she’s been working on this story for a really long time. It’s on you._

_Well, not you exactly, but the radio program you called into on Christmas. She recorded it for the article and she listens to it all of the time. I know that sounds a little creepy, but I swear, it’s not. She just really likes you and really likes your story, and when she listens to it, something happens. I can’t quite tell what it is, but it means a lot to her, and I think she’d like to meet you._

“Of course she does!” Roland says to himself, the excitement in his voice more than evident. “We wanna meet her too… even if my dad doesn’t know it yet.”

_My mom’s best friend, Mal, is always talking about signs and fate and people being destined for each other. She’s pretty sappy about stuff like that, but my mom has never bought into it. It’s just not her thing. She’s always been super practical about stuff, even love._

Roland grins at the word  _love_.

“The reason I am writing is because I think my mom really likes you. I like this could love you even.

“I knew it,” Roland whispers to himself. “I  _knew_ it.”

He reads a bit more, flipping over to a separate paper that looks like it could be part of a newspaper--and this too is meant for his dad. He doesn't understand most of it, but he gets enough to know that Regina Mills is really into his dad--and given the conversation he overheard between his dad and aunt, his dad is looking for someone really special--someone like Regina.

Then, he gets to the part that has a yellow post-it with his own name written on it.

 _This might sound crazy, but my friend Lily is really into this sappy old movies. One of her favorites is_ An Affair to Remember _. It’s pretty boring, but there’s one cool part that I think could work perfectly to get your dad to come and meet my mom. We just gotta work on ‘em and convince them to do it._

“This guy is brilliant,” Roland says, reading over Henry’s plan to have their parents meet on the top of the Empire State Building on Christmas Eve. Henry isn’t sure of the details--and truthfully, neither is he--but Henry is confident they can work something out, and whoever Lily is sounds like she’s going to help them.

Tucking the letter back into the envelope, Roland gets up, opening his door and running down the hall to the phone by his dad’s room. Picking it up, he waits to hear a dial tone, and then punches in Gus’s phone number. He taps his foot as it rings and squirms as Gus’s mom goes to get him, and when he finally hears Gus’s voice on the other end of the line, he grins.

“You gotta come over  _now_.”

“I have math homework. My mom probably won’t let me”

“I don’t care,” Roland says impatiently. “Tell her you’re coming over to do it here. We’re in the same class and all. She’ll buy it.”

“That is true and you are pretty good at subtraction.”

“Yeah, I am, but we are not doing subtraction. We have something  _way_ more important to do. We’ve got another letter to write.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Roland tells him, grinning. “I’ll fill you in when you get here.” He glances toward the stairs; his dad and aunt are still talking--and he hopes they’ll be too distracted to talk to Gus’s mom when she walks him over. “And  _hurry_! I wanna put this thing in the mail  _tomorrow_.”

_____

October 11, 1993- - Greenwich, Connecticut:

Henry grins as Lily comes into the living room with an armful of snacks—and his eye catches a big, unopened bag of Doritos.

“Okay, kid, I‘ve got all the stuff our moms would say we shouldn’t have for dinner—popcorn, two kinds of chips, rice crispy treats and—“

“You should get the ice cream to go with that bag of marshmallows.”

A grin pulls onto Lily’s lips. “I like the way you think.”

Henry giggles as she drops the snacks she's already collected down onto the coffee table, and as she runs back to the kitchen, he grabs the bag of Doritos and pulls it open.

He loves when Lily gets to babysit.

It’s a rare occurrence, but when she is allowed to, they always have a blast, filling up on junk food and falling asleep after playing video games until way past his bedtime.

The only time Lily ever gets to babysit on her own is when their moms have girls nights—and while he’s not sure what they do when they go out, he doesn't really care because he and Lily always have so much fun together.

But tonight, they won’t be playing video games or watching movies until they fall asleep—tonight, they have bigger plans.

“Okay, so, your mom had two kinds—chocolate and this cinnamon—“

“They’re sooo good together!”

“yeah?”

He nods as Lily shrugs. “Okay, I’ll give it a try.”

“You won’t regret it,” Henry says. “You scoop both kinds of ice cream into the same bowl then add marshmallow and—-“

“We aren’t using bowls.” Lily grins as Henry’s brow furrows. “I don't want to have to do the dishes so we are going to eat straight out of the carton. Not only do I  _hate_ doing dishes, you have  _no idea_  the lengths I went to to make my mom need a girls night out on a Monday.”

Henry’s grin brightens as Lily hands him a spoon. “Cheers,” she says, clanking her spoon against his before they open up the ice cream. “Dig in.”

Henry grins and does as he’s told, and for a while,  the two of them just sit there, at the coffee table, gorging on snacks.

“You know,” Henry begins as he dips a dorito until his ice cream. “You wouldn't think that nacho cheese chips would be good with chocolate ice cream but, it totally is.”

“Everything is good with chocolate.”

“So true.”

Taking a large scoop of ice cream, Lily shoves her spoon into her mouth. “Okay, we have a lot of work to do.” Henry watches as she reaches for her back back, dragging it to the coffee table. “I got some books on New York from the library at school.”

“Cool.”

“Okay, so, the Empire State Building is open until two in the morning on most days—“

“That's  _plenty_ of time!”

“Yeah, but you’re going on Christmas Eve, so the hours are going to be different. Unless—“

“Don’t say we should pick another day!” Henry cuts in. “I already told Roland Christmas Eve, and this is already going to be hard enough.”

“You really think this Roland kid is going to be able to get all the way to New York from Seattle with his dad in tow on a major holiday, like Christmas?”

Henry nods and takes another dorito, dipping it into his ice cream. “Uh huh,” he nods. “He says he can. He’s got some guy named Gus helping him. He sounds like an uncle or something.”

“Okay, good,” Lily says. “At least he has an adult helping him plan this.”

“Yeah.”

“So, can I just assume that Roland and Gus are going to figure out a way to get his dad to New York? I don't have to figure something out for him?”

Henry nods. “He says they’ve got it covered.”

“Good.”

Henry nods, looking out at the stacks of books on the coffee table. Planning their part alone is overwhelming, so he can’t imagine having to plan Roland’s part, too. “Hey, Lily,” he murmurs, looking up. “Can I ask you something?”

“Shoot.”

“What do they do when they go out, anyway?” Lily looks up. “I mean, are you  _sure_ we have enough time? What if they come home and--”

Lily shrugs. “Right now, they’re getting drunk off their asses, then they’re going to eat a bunch of bad, greasy food and drink a lot of crappy diner coffee to try and sober up before they come home to us. We have the whole night. You don’t have to worry about it.”

Henry blinks, frowning as he considers it--usually his mom eats so healthily and likes to be in bed by ten, especially when she has to go to work in the morning, and her outing with Mal wasn’t exactly something she planned for. “Oh. I hope they’re okay.”

Lily grins. “It’s good. They’re having fun. Promise.”

“Guess that explains why she’s so grumpy the day after they go out,” Henry sighs, shrugging as he takes another bite of his ice cream. “She gets bad indigestion from greasy food.”

A tight grin pulls onto Lily’s lip and her eyes roll. “Yeah. That's it. Indigestion, not a hangover.”

“What’s that?”

“A hangover?” Henry nods and Lily laughs. “It’s like a bad headache after you drink too much.”

  
“Have you ever had one?”

Lily blinks and for a moment she just stares at him. “This isn’t about me. It’s about your mother and how we’re going to get her on top of the Empire State Building on Christmas Eve.”

Henry nods. “We could ask to go,” he suggests. “I bet you can see the Christmas Tree in Rockefeller Center from the top. That would be really cool to see!”

“Yeah, it would be,” Lily agrees. “But what if she says no. New York isn't exactly around the block.”

“Yeah,” Henry says, growing. “That's a good point.”

“Luckily, you have me.” Henry grins and nods. “So, I think we should start planting seeds now, and make your mom thing going to New York for Christmas is  _her_ idea.”

Henry blinks. “Have you ever met my mom? There’s no way—“

“What if  _my_ mom thought it was a good idea.”

Henry’s brow furrows. “This is going to be complicated, isn’t it?”

Lily grins and shrugs—and then, for the next several hours, they hatch out a plan.

Lily starts by calling around to some of the the theatres on Broadway, asking about what shows they have playing on Christmas. She and Henry settle on a performance of  _The Nutcracker_ , and to Henry’s surprise, Lily pulls out one of Mal’s credit cards and purchases four tickets on the spot. His eyes widen and he asks why she has one of Mal’s credit cards, Lily shrugs and tells him it’s not her fault that Mal forgot to ask to have it back after allowing her to take it to the mall to get a new pair of winter boots.

Henry’s eyes narrow, not quite believable, he also doesn't care.

After they secure the tickets to the show, they plan out the rest of the day, culminating with ice-skating at Rockefeller Center.

“Now, here is where it’s going to get tough,” Lily says, biting down on her lip. “You’re going to have to do something kind of extreme.”

“I expected that,” he says, looking down at a map of New York City. “And I completely expect that if this doesn’t work out, my Mom is going to murder me.”

“No, she won’t,” Lily insists. “But… my mom might murder me for helping you runaway in New York City.”

Henry grins and shrugs. “Unless, she’s so happy for my mom, all is forgiven.”

For a moment, Lily considers then scrunches her nose. “I don’t know. I’m literally sending you off into one of the most dangerous cities in the country, to meet some strange guy so you can score your mom a date she doesn't want.”

Henry frowns. “I don’t care what she says. She wants to do this. She just doesn't know it.”

“Or maybe she does and she’s just scared to admit it.” Lily beams, reaching over and nudging him. “Hey, I’m really proud of you, kid. This is really sweet of you, you know that?”

Henry shrugs, focusing at a subway map in one of the guidebooks, trying to figure out the best way to get from Rockefeller Center to the Empire State Building.

“Seriously,” Lily says, nudging him again. “ Even if it doesn’t work out—“

“It will,” Henry interjects, still not looking up from the confusing map. “It has to.”

“But even if it doesn’t, it’ll be worth getting grounded until the end of the century for.”

Looking up, Henry giggles, grabbing another chip from the bag and popping it into his mouth, feeling quite satisfied with himself. “And lucky for us, that’s only six years.”

Lily’s eyes roll as she grabs one of the hide books and he giggles again, crossing his fingers as he again tries to figure out the subway map.


	16. Chapter 16

November 5, 1993-Seattle Washington:

_Sitting up in his bed, Robin looks around the darkened bedroom, his brow furrowing._

_Something isn’t right._

_Pushing back the covers, he gets out of bed, and pads down the hallway to Roland’s bedroom. Peeking in, he smiles gently as his eyes fall to his sleeping son—and for a moment, he just lingers there, watching him._

_Yawning, he pulls the door closed and pads back to his own bedroom, still feeling like something isn’t quite as it should be._

_“I was wondering when you'd come back.” He freezes in the doorway, his heart beating and goosebumps rising up on his skin as he stares at Marian. She’s wearing an off-the-shoulder sweatshirt and her favorite pair of plaid pajama bottoms, and her hair is swept up into a bun atop her head--and she’s beautiful as ever. “Oh, come on, Robin. You haven’t seen me in over a year and you’re just going to stand there?”_

_She laughs quietly and shakes her head, giving him the look she’d always given him when she thought he was being ridiculous about something--and though that look had always annoyed and frustrated him when she was alive, it now makes him smile._

_“God, I’ve missed you. I miss you so much it hurts.”_

_“I’ve missed you, too.”_

_“I--I thought--” His voice halts as his voice gets stuck in his throat. There are so many things he wants to tell her--things he didn’t get a chance to say, things he didn’t say enough, things he’s been aching to share with her--and now that he finally has that chance, the words all try to come out at once, rendering him speechless._

_“Come here,” she says, holding out both of her hands. “Come on.”_

_He nods, but he’s rooted in place. “I want to--”_

_“Then do it! Just come here.”_

_He swallows--he doesn’t want to blink, much less move, in fear that if he does, she’ll vanish. “I can’t.”_

_Marian’s eyes roll but a grin curls onto her lips. “You always were so stubborn. Apparently, some things never change.”_

_He offers a half nod, his eyes still fixed on her. “And… some things just won’t stop changing.”_

_Her expression softens as she gets up, crossing the room toward him--and as she reaches for him, he holds his breath, as if touching her will somehow make her disappear. “Not all changes are bad, Robin,” she says as her fingers slip around his hand. “Sometimes, change is exactly what you need, even if you don’t see it.”_

_He draws in a breath, looking down at their hands. “If you’re trying to say that losing you was somehow necessary or has some sort of silver lining, I’m going to have to dig my heels in on this one and tell you you’re wrong.”_

_“That’s… not what I meant,” she says. “Not exactly.”_

_“Then what did you mean?” he asks, slowly turning her hand over in his and giving it a little squeeze. “Or better yet, why did we have to lose you?”_

_“Some things are just… out of anyone’s hands.”_

_“Is that supposed to make me feel better?”_

_“No.”_

_He grins at her candor--he always admired that about her._

_“Come on,” she says, giving his hand a little tug as she takes a step back, pulling him toward the bed. “You’ve always known that I like to look on the bright side of things and--”_

_“Again, if you’re here to tell me why losing you was somehow supposed to happen or--”_

_“I told you,” she says, cutting in as she shakes her head. “That’s not why I’m here.”_

_“Because losing you was the single hardest thing Roland I will ever have to live through, and I will never understand why we had to.”_

_“Neither will I,” she admits. “But that doesn’t change the fact that it happened.”_

_He swallows, feeling tears welling in his eyes and his chest tightening. “Well, at least we’re on the same page.”_

_Sitting down on the edge of the bed, she leans back and easily pulls him down with her. “The thing is, Robin, you can’t keep… pretending to move on.”_

_“I’m not pretending to--” Her brow arches skeptically. “I never learn.”_

_“You were never good at lying to me.”_

_“I think we’ve established that I am stubborn and hard-headed.”_

_Nodding, she grins. “And awfully good at deflecting.”_

_“I’m not--”_

_“Robin, I know you better than anyone and you are absolutely deflecting. You don’t want to talk about this and you don’t want to move on, but you can’t just… stop living just because I have.” She settles back against the pillows and stretches an arm around his shoulder, stoking her fingers back and forth over his shoulder. “You deserve more than that.”_

_“I’m trying,” he says, his eyes momentarily sinking closed as he melts into her touch, relishing it and trying to memorize it. “Its hard though.”_

_“Of course it is. Life threw you quite a curveball.”_

_“That’s an understatement.”_

_“But you keep holding back--you did it with Emma and then there was that poor woman you took to dinner and never called again, and--”_

_“Do we really have to discuss… other women?”_

_“It doesn't hurt my feelings. I want you to find someone. I want you and Roland to be happy.”_

_“We are--I mean--as much as we can be.”_

_“That’s not true, and I think you know that.”_

_“It just seems… wrong.”_

_‘Being happy isn’t wrong and falling in love again isn’t a betrayal.” He looks up at her and he thinks about all the the times he thought his feelings were a betrayal, that moving on with someone else was somehow a betrayal of his vows--and the smirk that edges onto her lips tells him that she is well aware of how conflicted he’s felt, everything time he’s even allowed himself to consider being with someone else. “I want this for you. I want this for Roland.”_

_“I’m never going to feel the way I felt about you. I’m never going to love someone like that again.”_

_“You don’t know that.”_

_“Marian--”_

_“Loving someone else doesn’t take away from what you felt--or feel--for me.”_

_“Doesn't it?”_

_“No, it doesn’t,” she insists. “Love isn’t something we have in limited supply.”_

_“And how do you know that?”_

_“I’m dead. I know everything now.”_

_She laughs, but he can’t smile at that. “You don’t though. You can’t. Because I’ve tried. I tried to feel something for Emma and that woman that I took to dinner and then never called back. I tried to feel something for them, and they were both wonderful people. Really. They were, Marian, but they weren’t you.”_

_“They weren’t right for you.”_

_“You were right for me.”_

_“There’s someone else out there. I know there is. You just… have to find her, and that takes effort.”_

_“You sound like Belle… and even Roland.”_

_“Well, you sister is one of the smartest people and Roland is my son.”_

_“He is,” Robin says, a grin pulling onto his lips as he thinks of Roland and considers all of the times since Marian died that he saw her in their son, and all the times he took comfort in that. “He is so like you--and I love that. I love that so much.”_

_“You’re doing it again--you’re deflecting.”_

_His eyes narrow, and he smiles. “I’ve missed this.”_

_“I know. Me, too,” she says, her hand sweeping against the back of his neck and her fingers pushing into his hair as she leans in a bit. “But don’t let this hold you back.”_

_“It’s--”_

_“Don’t put me in the way of your happiness.”_

_“Marian--”_

_“It’s okay to move on. It doesn't mean you’re forgetting me or that you don’t love me as much, it just means that you’re continuing to live.” She leans in the rest of the way and his eyes close, his heart beating faster and faster as her lips brush against . This kiss is warm and sweet and familiar, and he wishes it could last forever--and just as he reaches up to pull her closer, he feels her fading._

_And then she’s gone._

Robin sits up, his heart racing as he swallows hard, looking around the dark bedroom.

He can still feel her. He can still smell her perfume, and as he looks to the empty space beside, and he almost believes that if he touched it, it’d still be warm.

Almost, but not quite; after all, it was just a dream.

He lays back and stares up at the ceiling, thinking of her and thinking of what she said to him, thinking about how she told him she wanted him to move on and how she asked him to not  _put her_  in the way. He wants to argue against that notion--the idea that he’s putting her in the way--but he finds that he can’t.

For all his insistence that Marian was the one woman he was meant to love, she always insisted that love was a matter of timing--that they were just in the right place and the right time, that they were lucky. He’d always agreed on the last bit, but he wasn’t sure about the rest--though, now he wishes that he shared the former sentiments. If he did, he might feel less guilty.

Sighing, he rolls onto his side and closes his eyes, but Marian’s words-- _It’s okay to move on_ \--continue to play again and again. He flops onto his back and then the opposite side, still thinking of how she insistent she’d been that him falling in love again wouldn’t diminish the love he had for her, that he could love her and someone else at the same time.

Sitting up, he drops his face into his hands--and suddenly, he finds his thoughts shifting to the woman from the airport, thinking of the way she smiled and laughed.

_You just… you have to find her._

Taking a breath, he gets out of bed, padding down the hall and poking his head into Roland’s bedroom, smiling gently at his sleeping son. He lingers there for a moment, then pulls the door closed and heads down to the kitchen for a drink of water, or perhaps something a bit stronger--and that’s when the letter Roland’s been so obsessed with catches his eye.

He stares at it, peeking out from behind the electric bill--and then, for a fleeting moment, he considers reading it and finding out why Roland is so obsessed with this woman.

And then he thinks of the woman from the airport, and instead reaches for a glass and the bottle of whiskey that he hides behind all the spices in the cabinet. He pours a shot and quickly downs it, wondering to himself how the hell he’s supposed to find a woman he only caught a glimpse of in a crowded airport.

_____

November 12, 1993- Greenwich, Connecticut:

For months she’s been putting off talking to Daniel about their wedding, putting off telling him that she’s not entirely sure she can go through with it. She’s not quite sure how to initiate that or how to explain that she loves him, but isn’t sure that she’s in love with him.

It’s occurred to her on more than one occasion that her reluctance to plan her own wedding was simply cold feet, simply the fear of getting it wrong again. There’d been a point in her life when she thought that Daniel could be the one--in fact, she’d spent most of her marriage asking herself that very question. And Daniel was everything that she should want. He was kind and patient, he got along with her son and seemed eager to parent him, and when she was with him, things were easy and comfortable. They shared common interests; they had fun together, and when she considered that and compared it to some of her friends marriages, she knew that she was lucky and she knew they’d be happy.

But then there was her obsession with Robin--with Sleepless in Seattle.

She’d gone back and forth over what that really meant and what it was really about--and time and time again, she found herself wondering if there could be something real between them. Then, just as soon as she considered that, she found herself wondering if the reason she was attracted his elusiveness. Sleepless in Seattle was a fantasy, he was intangible, and in a lot of ways, he was exactly what Daniel was to her when she was married to Leopold.

So, everytime she came close to talking to Daniel about her feelings, she got lost in them and only confused herself--and how could she explain something she didn’t understand?

“I think you’ll really get along with Jasmine,” Daniel says, pulling the door open for her. “You two are quite similar.”

“Yeah? How so?”

“Well, you’re… you’re both strong and independent women. You know what you want from life and you go after it.”

She grits her teeth at the inaccuracy of that.

She hardly does that.

If she did, there was a fair chance she wouldn’t be here with him now.

Or maybe she would be.

She didn’t know, but nonetheless, she nodded.

“What does she do?”

“She’s in graduate school, actually.”

“Ah--”

“She’s from Saudi Arabia. She got a fellowship to study here.”

“Oh--”

“As part of her fellowship, she’s working with my company--”

“You haven’t mentioned her before.”

Daniel blinks, and she can’t help but notice that he suddenly looks uncomfortable. “Haven’t I?”

“No.”

“Oh,” he murmurs. “Well, I try to avoid talking about work when I’m with you and Henry. I read an article in the  _Times_ about the importance of maintaining a work-life balance, and--” He smiles, his momentary discomfort dissolving as he takes her hand. “I’m just so glad that I have a life to balance against work now.”

She nods, her eyes narrowing a bit. “That makes sense--and I am too.”

He grins and leads her into the restaurant, and quickly, they approach a table where two of his clients that she vaguely recognize are already seated, and then, a woman he can only assume is Jasmine, turns around and smiles.

Jasmine has long black hair that’s half pulled back and curled at the ends. She’s got pretty tan skin and big dark brown eyes, and a smile that practically glitters--especially when she looks at Daniel. And then, when she glances to Daniel, she sees that he’s smiling back and looking at Jasmine as if she’s the only woman in the room. His eyes light up and cheeks flush slightly, their eyes are locked into other another’s, and though it only lasts for a fleeting moment--just a couple of seconds--she can’t help but notice that the way he looks at Jasmine is a way that he’s never looked at her.

And suddenly, she sees the difference between loving someone and being in love with someone.

They get through the dinner, and just as Daniel predicted, she and Jasmine get along well. They both took equestrian lessons when they were young and still like to ride leisurely as a way to relax. They like the same books and music, they both pursued careers their parents didn’t approve of, and despite that, they both strive for their parents approval.

She finds that Jasmine wants a lot of the same things from life that Daniel does--routines, a family, and the occasional adventure--and by the end of dinner, what she could only assume at the start is now apparent.

“Can we… grab a drink?” Regina asks, her stomach fluttering as her hand touches to Daniel’s arm as the rest of their party is making their way out of the restaurant. “Just a quick one?”

Daniel nods. “Yeah. Sure. Why not?”

Grinning, she leads him over to the bar, choosing two open stools at the end. She orders a glass of wine and he orders a rum and coke, and she waits until their drinks arrive, knowing she’ll need a bit of liquid courage to say what she wants to say.

“You were right,” she tells him. “Jasmine is lovely.”

“She is,” Daniel says, nodding in agreement. “She’s going to go on to do great things. I just wish--”

“You love her.” He stares at her like a deer in headlights--and reaching out, she places her hand over his. “It’s okay.”

“Regina,” he says, clearing his throat as he shifts uncomfortably. “I… didn’t cheat on you. I’d never--”

“I’m not accusing you of anything.”

“But--”

“It’s okay,” she says again. “I think she likes you, too--actually, given the way she looked at you, I think it’s safe to say she loves you, too.”

“But you and I--”

“We’re not right for each other,” she says, feeling her voice hitch at the back of her throat. “I think we both wanted to be right for each other, and maybe in another time, we would have been.”

“Regina, I… I don’t… I don’t what…”

His voice trails off as she pulls her hand away. She draws in a breath and pulls off her engagement ring, and then, she smiles. “I do love you, but I love you as a friend, and I think you feel the same.”

For a moment, he just stares at her--and then, he offers a slight not. “I didn’t… realize… It wasn’t until I met Jasmine that I realized it. I’m sorry. I know I should have said something, but I really thought--”

“It’s okay,” she tells him, cutting him and not wanting him to have to apologize. “It happens.”

“Yeah, I… I guess it does.”

“We can still be friends.”

“I’d like that,” he’s quick to say. “I really do care for you and Henry.”

“I know you do, and I really care for you. I want you to be happy, so I think we should break up.”

He scoffs a bit and nods. “I should have told you.”

Grinning, she shrugs, thinking of Mal suggesting that fate pushed her and Sleepless in Seattle together. “Maybe, but… maybe you just… needed a sign that hit you over the head with a two-by-four.”

Daniel laughs and again reaches out to give his hand a squeeze. “Maybe.”

“So, tell me… when did you first know?”

“Know what?”

“That you were in love with her.”

For a moment, Daniel just stares at her--and she realizes how awkward this must be for him. But then, a little smile pulls onto his lips. “I don’t know. I just… I was getting into an elevator and suddenly, I heard her calling for me to hold the door. I stuck my hand out and so did she, my fingers grazed hers and… it was just… it was…”

“Magic.”

He nods, grinning a bit sheepishly. “Exactly.”

“I’m glad you found her. I’m glad you found that feeling,” she says, giving his hand one last squeeze as he pulls back. “You deserve it.”

“You do, too,” he tells her, smiling sincerely. “Is there…anyone else for you? I mean, I’ve kind of gotten the impression that… that there might be someone.”

Regina nods. “There’s the idea of someone.”

“Ah--”

“You should go talk to Jasmine. Ask her out. It’s early, you two could grab a drink or dessert or--”

“I drove. I don’t want you to be stranded here.”

“I’ll take a cab.”  
  


“Regina--”

“No, really. I want to enjoy my wine and… just think for a bit.”

Daniel’s eyes narrow. “You’re… you’re sure?”

“Positive.”

“So, then, I guess… this is it?”

“No,” she says, laughing slightly. “I meant it when I said I wanted to be friends. This isn’t goodbye.”

“I’m glad.”

“I’ll, um… I’ll call you next week,” she says, grinning a bit awkwardly. “You can tell me all about your date over coffee or something.”

“And you can tell me about this idea of someone else.”

She nods and watches him go. Then as he vanishes into the crowd, she smiles to herself--it feels like a weight has been lifted from her shoulders.


	17. Chapter 17

December 3, 1993- Seattle, Washington:

“These letters are just  _so good_.”

Roland blinks as he looks to Gus, his brow furrowing a bit. “That one’s from her son. He’s ten. We’ve been writing a lot.”

“Oh--well--he’s a good writer, too.”

“Yeah,” Roland says, nodding. “That’s true. He seems really smart. He came up with this absolutely genius plan. I’m serious. It’s brilliant.”

“Is that what you need help with?”

“Yeah. I gotta figure out a way to get to New York City on Christmas Eve.”

Gus considered for a moment. “That shouldn’t be too hard.”

“I have eighty-two dollars. Do you think that will be enough?”

Gus's face scrunches. “Probably for cabs.”

“Oh--”

“But you don’t have to worry about paying.”

“My dad says plane tickets are expensive,” Roland says, reaching into his pocket and fishing out his spare change from lunch. “I’ve got… seventy-five more cents.”

“And I’ve got about forty saved up. You can borrow it.”

“Will that cover the ticket?” Roland asks, brightening. “I can pay you back. I get weekly allowance.”

“You could if you were borrowing it.”

“Oh. I thought--” A frown pulls onto his lips. “Nevermind.”

“Roland. My dad’s a travel agent. You don’t need money for a ticket.”

“But--”

“He’s delivering some stuff to one of his clients. He’ll be back in like an hour, and my mom’s on an emergency call to one of her regulars. This is gonna work, but we have to do it now.”

“What's going to work?”

Gus’s eyes roll. “You’re hopeless, ya know that?”

Roland frowns as Gus reaches for his arm, pulling him into the little office on the side of the living room. He shoves Roland in, then looks around--likely for either of his parents--and then closes the door. “Okay, so, I’m gonna boot up the computer. You figure out what kinda seat you want on the plane.”

“Oh,” Roland murmurs. “I’ve… never actually been on a plane.”

“Bring gum.”

“For what?”

“Your ears.”

Roland’s brow furrows. “Well, I want a comfy seat.”

Gus sighs. “Your options are aisle, middle or window, and you  _don’t_ want a middle seat.”

“Window.”

“Do you want food tray?” Gus asks, sitting down behind the computer and grabbing the mouse as the screen starts to glow. “It’s an option on long flights.”

“Is it a long flight?”

“Yup.”

“Oh, then, I guess I want a food tray.”

“Okay,” Gus sighs, “Personally, I’d rather die than eat plane food, but it’s up to you.” Roland sits down in the seat across from him, a hundred questions swimming around in his head, but before he can pick one to ask, Gus grins. “You a morning person?”

“Not really.”

‘Is your dad?”

“Definitely not.”

“I have the perfect flight then. It takes off at six.”

“At night.”

“Nope. In the morning. Your dad will still be asleep.”

Roland grins. “Perfect.”

“So you want that food tray?”

“Nah.”

“Since you’re a minor, I have to put in your age. I’m gonna say your twelve.”

“No one is  _ever_ gonna believe that.”

“If it’s in the computer, they’ll believe anything.”

“I don’t even look like I’m seven and I  _am_ seven,” Roland says, crossing his arms over his chest. “The other day, I was going to the bathroom after art class and a substitute teacher asked if I was lost and needed to be taken back to the kindergarten rooms.” His eyes widen. “Kindergarten, Gus. No one would ever mistake a kindergartener for a twelve year old.”

“Ouch.”

“Yeah.”

“Okay, so how about I put in a note that says you’re unusually short for your age, but no one should mention it because it’ll hurt your feelings.”

Roland nods, as a smile pulls onto his lips. “That’s perfect! You really think they’ll believe something like that?”

“Like I said, if it's in the computer, they’ll believe anything.”

“Cool,” Roland murmurs, watching as Gus types. “How much is it gonna cost?”

“Doesn't matter,” Gus says, shrugging as he continues to type. “My dad has a card he puts all his clients’ flights and hotels reservations on. Then, he pays it when they pay him. By the time you’re in New York, it’ll be paid, probably.”

“Won’t he notice that there’s stuff on there that he didn’t book?”

“He never even looks.” Roland grins. “So, you need a car to pick you up. The airport's way too far to go by bike. Plus, it’ll still be dark and that's dangerous.”

“How much is a cab.”

“There's a car service that my dad likes to use. It’s thirty bucks.”

“I have that much!”

“And then some. You gotta tip the driver.”

“Oh… right…” Roland says, nodding. “How much?”

“It’s gotta be good. So, like… five dollars.”

“I can do that!”

For a second, Gus gets quiet and Roland can see him carefully reading what’s on the screen, so he too is quiet, despite all of the questions he still has. Then, almost triumphantly, Gus hits one of the keys and the computer makes a beeping sound. “Booked!”

“Really? Just like that?”

“Just like that.”

Roland fidgets in the chair, pulling his legs up and tucking them beneath himself. “So, when I get to the airport. What do I do? Where do I go? How will I--”

“The cab will drop you off where you need to be.”

“Oh.”

“Tell him you’re flying United.”

“United,” Roland repeats. “Got it.” Then he frowns. “What’s United?”

“It’s an airline. Each airline has like a door you go into. You go into the United one. Then, you go to the United desk and give them your name.”

“And they’ll give me my ticket?”

“Yup and they’ll tell you where to go from there. Since you’re a kid, if you’re confused or scared, someone will walk with you.”

Roland nods. “Even though I’m twelve?”

“Yeah. Listen for announcements. They’ll tell you when to board the plane. Kids get on first.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, kids and old people.”

“Oh.”

“Are you excited?”

A grin pulls onto his lips and he nods--he’s also nervous and scared and worried about getting grounded for the rest of his life. “We should write to Henry and let him know we booked my flight.”

“Yeah. That’s a good idea.”

Giggling, Gus turns off the computer and leads him back to the living room--just as his dad is coming through the door--and both wave, swearing they’ve been working on homework the whole time, and both breathing out a sigh of relief when his dad doesn’t ask for specifics.

_____

December 3, 1993- Greenwich, Connecticut:

Henry fidgets nervously as he looks to Lily, watching as she opens an envelope containing the tickets to  _The Nutcracker_ that she ordered, and he grins as she fans out four tickets.

It seems like they’ve been working on this plan for an eternity, and finally, it’s all coming together.

Lily planned a surprise dinner for their moms. She arranged to pick him up after school and made them a reservation for appetizers and drinks after work at a fancy bar they sometimes like to go to when they have their girls’ nights. While Lily cooked he’d cleaned up the kitchen and the dining room, then set the table, using the good napkins and plates that they only pulled out when his grandmother came to visit.

She made some sort of baked chicken with rice, which was something Mal always said was comfort food, and she baked cinnamon apples for dessert. Henry was especially glad for the dessert because while Mal might’ve thought that chicken and rice was comforting, he thought the smell of apples and cinnamon was.

And he needed that.

Especially tonight.

There was so much riding on this evening. He and Lily were presenting their moms with  _The Nutcracker_  tickets, and if one of them found any reason they shouldn’t, neither of them would go and the whole plan would be ruined--and if that happened, he wasn’t really sure what he’d do.

Other than run away and make his mom have to follow him.

But that sounded a lot more complicated than taking the subway from Rockefeller Center to the Empire State Building, and already, he was nervous enough about messing that up. He couldn’t imagine how nervous and worried Roland was feeling, having to go all the way from Seattle to New York City, but, at least, it seemed, he had an adult to help him with the plans. He just had Lily, and while he loved her, she wasn’t always the best planner.

“Hey,” Lily says, nudging him. “I just saw headlights. They’re here.”

Henry draws in a breath and he and Lily get into place.

The table is set and there are candles glowing, making the room look warm and inviting. Lily is wearing a nice skirt and a shirt that doesn’t have the name of a band on it, and he’s wearing a tie and a button down shirt--and as they hear the key turning in the lock, they both put on a smile.

“What did you do?” Mal asks immediately, looking to Lily. “What broke? What class did you bomb?”

“Nothing, nothing, and none.”

Mal’s eyes narrow as Regina steps up beside Mal. “Oh my, you two did all this while we were out?”

“Yeah!” Henry says, grinning as his shoulders relax. “We wanted to surprise you.”

“Oh--”

“And what a sweet surprise it is.”

Mal softens. “This  _is_  quite sweet.”

“Here,” Henry says, looking to his mom as he pulls out one of the chairs. “Sit down.”

“Aw--”

“This is part of your Christmas gift.”

“An early present! How sweet!”

Mal nods, her eyes narrowing as if she still doesn’t trust it. “Yes. It really is sweet.”

“Okay, stop,” Lily sighs. “We just wanted to do something nice and it was mostly Henry’s idea anyway.”

“Maybe we should give them the main surprise now,” Henry whispers loudly as he nudges Lily. “Your mom looks kinda mad.”

“I’m not mad,” Mal is quick to say as she sits down beside Regina. “I’m just… skeptical.”

“There’s more than just dinner?”

Henry nods as Lily pulls an envelope from her skirt pocket and holds it out to them. “We, uh… we wanted to do something fun for Christmas,” Lily explains. “You know, just the four of us.”

“How sweet.”

Mal nods. “That is sweet.”

“And since Regina and Henry will be at her parents’ house for Christmas on Christmas Day, we thought Christmas Eve would be the best time for the four of us to celebrate.” Henry holds his breath as Lily hands them the envelope. “This is just a part of the surprise,” she tells them, looking to Henry and offering him a quick wink as Regina takes the envelope.

“Oh my god--”

“Henry, Lily--”

“You got us tickets for  _The Nutcracker_?”

“Yeah,” Henry says. “Then after we watch it, we’re gonna have dinner then go ice skating at Rockefeller Center!”

“That really is swe--” Mal stops, looking up from the tickets. “Lily, did you order these with my credit card?”

“Maybe.”

“I spent  _a week_  arguing with the credit card company about that charge!”

“Oops.”

Mal’s eyes widen as Lily shrugs unapologetically. “Lily--”

“Mal,” Regina cuts in. “Our kids were trying to do something nice for us for Christmas.” Her eyes shift to Lily. “And while they might’ve gone about it the wrong way--”

“It’s not like I’m not going to pay you back.”

Mal blinks as she looks to Lily. “With what money?”

“The advance on my allowance that you’re going to give me?”

For a moment, Mal just stares and her, and then she laughs, shaking her head as she looks to Regina. “Merry Christmas. I got you and the kids theatre tickets for Christmas Eve. Surprise.”

Laughing, Regina grins. “But they made us dinner--”

“Your favorites,” Henry says, pointing to the table. “Chicken and rice for you, and baked apples for mom.”

“And they dressed up.”

“And cleaned,” Lily says, cutting in. “Your kitchen is spotless. This is a chore-free evening for you… well, both of you, I guess.”

Mal sighs, then grins. “And we’re going to New York City for Christmas, and that’ll be fun.”

“We’ll be with some of our favorite people.”

“Yeah,” Henry says, sitting down at the table and looking to Lily. “I bet it’ll be full of fun surprises, too.”

Lily grins and sits down, too--and from the corner of his eye, he can’t help but notice the way that Mal is looking at him and he reminds himself that there’s no possible way she knows about their real plan, and if she doesn't know, there’s no way his mom knows and there’s no reason to worry about it.


	18. Chapter 18

December 24 1993- New York, New York:

Roland shivers as he steps up to one of the big sets of binoculars and he frowns--even on the tips of his toes, he can’t see.

It’s been a long day and he’s tired, cold and hungry. The snacks he filled his backpack with at the airport commissary are are gone and he now regrets letting Gus talk him out of the food plate on the plane because even bad food is better than no food--and though there are places to eat all around him, he’s too afraid to actually venture down from the Empire State Building Observation Deck.

So, he sits down at one of the little tables and pulls his blanket out of his backpack, wrapping it around his legs--and then, looking around, he pulls Rocinante, a stuffed horse he’s had for as long as he can remember, out from the back pack and holds him close.

When he was little, his mom used to read him classic stories, and one of their favorites was  _Don Quixote_. She used to buy special version of old stories that were illustrated with pretty watercolor illustrations, and he always laughed at the one of Don Quixote trying to fight the windmill. His mom always laughed at that one, too.

He smiles a little as he thinks of her, remembering how she used to hold him on her lap and cuddle him when he was cold from playing in the snow. They’d made hot cocoa with marshmallows and cinnamon, and she’d wrap them up in a thick blanket by the fire--and when his eyes close, he can almost feel it.

Every now and then, the elevator door dings and a few people get off, wandering to the edge of the deck and looking through the binocular. He watches them closely as they point out tall skyscrapers and other attractions--then, just as quickly as they come, they go, often making a comment about how cold it is.

He hugs the blanket and and Rocinante closer every time someone makes that comment, and when he starts to get darker, he tries not to be scared.

Eventually, the elevator doors stop opening and closing and the people stop coming, and suddenly he feels so alone. Glancing at his wrist watch, he notices that its five o’clock and for the first time that day, he wonders what he’s going to do if Regina and Henry don’t come--and then, his stomach sinks as he considers what will happen if his dad doesn’t come.

That morning, when he’d snuck out his window to go to the airport, he’d considered leaving a note, but Gus told him not do that that. That he’d handle things--and he’d been too nervous and excited to argue.

Gus told him that his dad would probably reach out to his friends and their parents, and that’s when Gus would explain what they’d planned; he’d even looked at the times flights were leaving Seattle for New York to plan out when he’d reveal where Roland had gone off to. Then, Gus’s parents would probably take him to the airport and help him get a plane ticket for New York--and by the time his dad got to New York, it’d be time to meet Regina and Henry.

What he’d never considered was what would happen if his dad didn’t reach out to Gus or his parents, and he hadn’t considered the possibility that there weren’t other spots on the flights going from Seattle to New York.

Tears brim in his eyes as he wonders what he’d do if no one comes for him.

Reaching into his pocket, he wonders if he could get a hotel room for fifty-four dollars and he wonders how he’d even go about finding a hotel room.

His saw starts to tremble as tears roll down his cheeks and he hugs Rocinante closer.

“Mom,” he whispers, pressing his eyes closed and foring tears to fall from the sides of his eyes. “Please send Daddy to me. Please let this work. Please.”

And almost as soon as he whispers it, the elevator doors ding--and as his eyes open, he sees his dad rushing frantically from the elevator. He grins as he stands up, letting his blanket fall onto the chair as he tucks Rocinante under his arm and bats his hands over his cheeks.

“Roland?” Robin yells out. “Roland, are you--”

“Dad!”

Robin turns toward the sound of his voice, his shoes slipping slightly on the snowy ground. “Roland!” Roland runs toward him as he drops down to his knees and opens his arm and he smiles when he dad’s arms wrap around him, holding him tight as he cups the back of his head and kisses his cheek. “Oh my god, Roland. I am so glad that you’re okay.”

“I’m fine--”

“Roland,” he says, pushing him back slightly, but still holding onto both of his arms. “You scared me to death! Why did you runaway? Why did you--”

“You wouldn’t read the letter, dad,” Roland says, his tears now flowing freely. “And I just want you to be happy.”

Robin blinks. “Roland, I  _am_ happy. You make me happy.”

“It’s not the same.”

“Roland,” he says, drawing a deep breath and trying to keep his voice even and calm, not wanting to yell. “Roland, it’s never going to be the same. We can’t replace your mom.”

“I’m not trying to replace her. I just… I just want….I…”

The words get stuck in his throat as he struggles against his tears--and when the words don’t come, his dad pulls him back to him, hugging him just as tightly as he did before.

“We’re okay, right? Just you and me, we’re doing okay.”

Roland nods and sniffles.

“You know what? Maybe we’ll get a dog. When we get home, we’ll go to the shelter and pick out a dog and--”

“Dad, Regina is on her way.”

His brow furrows. “What?”

“Regina, the lady who wrote the letter… she and her son are coming to meet us.”

“Roland--”

“Can we please just wait? They have until six. Please!” Robin sighs, shaking his head as his eyes press closed--and Roland bites down on his lip as he realizes how mad his dad looks. “Henry and I--”

“Who is Henry?”

“Regina’s son,” Roland says. “We planned this. We planned all of it just so you two could meet. We have to stay! We have to, dad! We have to see if if she comes.”

“Roland, do you realize how dangerous all of this is? You running away? You getting on a plane and flying across the country by yourself? You coming here and waiting alone in--”

“Some things are worth it, dad.”

“This Henry person--”

“Her son--”

“How do you know that? How do you know he’s not some deranged man who just wants--”

“Dad, we were writing letters to each other. He’s ten and he’s a Boy Scout.”

“This could all be a set up.”

“But what if it’s not! What if she’s the real thing? What if she’s the person you’re meant to be with?”

For a moment, Robin doesn't say anything; he just stares at him, blankly. Then, he draws in a slow and deliberate breath, releasing it as it puffs out in front of them like a little cloud of smoke. “Roland, your mom was the one I was meant--”

“No, dad. Love doesn’t have limits.”

Robin’s eyes narrow. “Who told you that?”

“Mom,” Roland says, feeling his tears starting to well again. “She wants you to be happy. I know that she does. She wants us to find someone and--”

“How do you know that?”

Roland shrugs. “Gus’s mom is psychic.”

“Gus’s mom--”

“Gus has the gift too. He did a reading for me.”

“Your friend who helped you run away to meet some stranger is  _psychic_.”

Roland nods. “And he says that you and Regina probably knew each other in another life and that your heart has missing pieces, kinda like puzzle pieces, but because you couldn’t be together, the puzzle isn’t complete and--”

“Roland, this is crazy! All of that sounds crazy!”

“That doesn’t mean it’s not true.”

“Roland--”

“Please. Please just stay for a half an hour to see if she comes,” he asks, his voice pleading as his tears stream down his cheeks. “It’s just a half an hour more, dad.”

“And suppose she doesn't come?”

“Then you’ll know you were right and you can ground me forever.”

“Well, that’s happening regardless of whether or not I’m right” Robin says, drawing in a breath. “Okay, I’ll tell you what. There’s a little diner down the street. Let’s go get some cocoa and maybe a hot dog or something, and then in a half an hour, we’ll come back.”

Roland considers. “We’ll be back by six?”

“Yes. Six.”

“Before that. Like five minutes before.”

“Deal.”

Again, Roland considers it and nods, letting his dad pick him up and carry him toward the elevators--his dad has never been the type of person to go back on a deal, and he hopes this won’t be the one time that he does, not when so much is riding on it.

_____

December 24, 1993- New York, New York

Looking around, Regina glances to her watch, then to Mal and Lily. Henry’s been in the bathroom for an unusually long time. At first, she told herself that there was probably a line, and then she started to wonder if he’d made himself sick with all the spinning and turning on the ice so quickly after eating--but now, she’s worried that it’s something else.

“Henry should be back by now.”

“Maybe he got distracted, and stopped off for more hot chocolate,” Mal suggests.

“No, I walked over there. He’s at the tables or by the counter or in line.”

“Maybe he--”

“He isn’t at the food court either.”

“Maybe--”

“He’s not here,” Lily says, her voice slow and tentative. “He’s on his way to the Empire State Building.”

“Excuse me?”

Lily bites down on her lip. “Look. He’s fine--”

“Lily!”

Regina feels her heart start to beat faster as her mouth goes dry. “You don’t know that, Lily. Why--”

“He was going to take the Subway, but I made him take a cab instead.”

“My  _child_ is  _alone_ in a cab in the middle of New York City?!”

“Of all the stupid things you’ve--’

“He has my mace spray. I took down the name of the cab driver, the company he drives for, and before I let Henry get into the cab, I made that guy show me his driver's license.” Lily draws in a breath, looking nervously between them. “Plus the kid screams like a banshee at the sight of a spider--”

“This isn’t the time for jokes, Lily!”

“Mom, I’m--”

“When did he leave?” Regina asks, her voice rising over Mal’s as she looks frantically at her watch.

“About ten minutes ago… when I went to get an elephant ear.”

“Why would--”

“He’s going to meet Sleepless in Seattle and his son.”

Regina’s eyes widen. “What?”

“Henry and I have been writing to his son, Roland, and some guy named Gus.”

Regina’s brow arches. “Some guy!?”

“Yeah, he’s like an uncle--”

“Or a pedophile! Oh my god--” Regina’s stomach sinks and she doesn’t finish her thought, much less let Lily finish explaining. Instead, she takes off running--running until she reaches the edge of the crowded street. Throwing up her hand she tries to catch the attention of a cab driver--and when a cab stops for someone else, she bumps them out of the way and takes the cab ordering the driver to take her to the Empire State Building.

Her heart pounds the whole way and she chides herself for ever taking an interest in that radio show or Sleepless in Seattle, hating that it’s spiraled and overtaken her life, and hating that somehow Henry found out about it. As much as she’s been attracted to this man and as wonderful and harmless as he seemed, she didn't know that. She didn’t know anything about him other than the fantasy she’d built up in her head. She never imagined that Henry would figure it out or get involved, and she never imagined that it could bring her son into harm's way.

Drawing in a breath, she reminds herself to breathe--she’s only ten minutes behind him, and if they weren’t meeting until six, she has time.

 _It’ll be okay_ , she tells herself, again and again as she tries to calm herself down--and when that fails, she urges the cab drive to drive faster.

After what seems like an eternity, the cab pulls up in front of the Empire State Building. Reaching into her purse, she grabs a twenty and tosses it toward the driver, not bothering to wait to see if the bill covers the cost or to see if it actually reaches his hands, and as soon as she’s out of the cab, she’s running toward the building.

“I need to go up--”

“Sorry, the Observation Deck is closed.”

Her eyes widen as she looks to the doorman. “I  _have_ to go up there. My kid is up there. He arranged to meet someone and--”

“Ah-- just like the movie.”

“What?”

“ _An Affair to Remember_ ,” the doorman says, chuckling softly as her eyes widen with frustration. “You know it. Deborah Kerr and Cary Grant. They’re supposed to meet, but--”

“My  _kid_ is up there meeting with a  _stranger_.”

“Your kid wearing a red and gray striped scarf?”

“Yes!”

“He’s up there, and I’m pretty sure he’s up there all alone,” the doorman says, pressing the arrow on the elevator. “Go on up and get him.”

Regina offers something that she thinks is a  _thank you_  but she can’t hear her own voice over her pouding heart. The elevator seems to take an eternity, but finally, the bell dings and the doors start to open. She doesn’t wait for them to open full, instead squeezing through and forcing herself out.

“Henry!? Henry where--”

“Mom! You came!”

Her eyes widen. “ _Of course_  I came to get you.” Dropping down to her knees, she pulls him into a hug. “You scared me half to death! Don’t you ever--”

“Mom, I had to.”

“No, Henry, you--”

The bell on the elevator dings again, and both she and Henry turn to watch the doors open--and she watches as Robin and his son step off.

“Roland, this is--”

Robin’s voice halts as his eyes fall to her--and she watches as Roland offers Henry a little wave as they take a few steps closer.

“I’m Henry,” she hears her son say. “And this is my mom, Regina.”

Robin’s brow arches. “Y-you’re Regina?”

“I am.”

“I… I remember you. From the airport and from the beach.”

Her eyes narrow. “What?”

“I’ve seen you before and--” He stops, laughing. “And I am just now realizing how crazy that sounds.”

She nods as their eyes lock--he’s even better looking up close. “You… came all this way…”

“Well, my son did.”

“Yeah, I, uh… I guess they’ve been….planning this.”

He nods, offering a sheepish little grin and her heart flutters as his dimples sink into his cheeks. “I… I didn’t put him up to this. I just want you to know that--”

“Neither did I.”

A soft chuckle escapes him. “Apparently, our sons are a couple of hopeless romantics.”

“Apparently so.”

“I…” His cheeks flush slightly. “I just can't believe you’re Regina.”

Her brow furrows and Henry tugs at her sleeve. “Lily and I think Mal wrote to him the first time.”

Regina’s eyes widen as she looks to Henry. “What?”

“Then I replied,” Roland tells her. “Me and my friend Gus.”

“Oh--”

“And then apparently, they struck up a correspondence,” Robin supplies. “The details are still a bit fuzzy to me.”

“Very fuzzy,” she murmurs as she looks back to him, their eyes once more locking.

“I--”

“Do you want to grab a cup of coffee?” she asks, her heart beating wildly. “There’s a diner--”

“Just up the street. The coffee’s quite good. They've got burgers and tacos and… all sorts of things.”

“Oh, so you’ve--”

“Always got time to grab coffee,” he supplies. “And I believe they’re open late. Even tonight.”

She grins. “I mean, you did come all this way and--”

Her voice halts and her stomach flops as he holds out a gloved hand to her--and suddenly, she remembers him saying he’d know he was going to fall in love with his wife from the moment their hands first touched, that he’d been simply reaching for her hand to help her out of a cab, and he’d just known.

Her stomach flops again as Henry nudges her nodding toward it as she bites down on her lip, ready for the fantasy she’s built up of this perfect man to come crashing down around her, right then and there.

Life has taught her to expect that much.

That’s when she first feels it.

A spark.

 _Like magic_ , she thinks.

She gasps a bit and looks to her fingers pressed to his palm--and as she looks up, she watches a slow grin pull onto his lips as he closes his hand around hers, and she realizes that he felt it too.

Wordlessly, they walk toward the elevator, grinning at each other like idiots while their sons trail beside them--and when the elevator doors close, they both laugh Henry and Roland give each other a high-five.

The ride down is a bit awkward and neither she nor Robin says anything while the boys chatter on, swapping their brave travel adventures of the day. Every couple of seconds, she finds herself looking over at him, almost as if to remind herself that he’s really there and standing beside her and holding her hand--and whenever she does, she has to tamp down a giggle because it seems that he’s doing the same.

The walk to the diner is fairly short and to her relief, it’s not very crowded, so there won’t be any need to rush.

No sooner than they order their food, the boys take note of the jukebox attached to the end of the table and she grins as Robin pulls out a pocketful of change, picking out enough quarters that each boy gets four songs. She isn’t sure what it is about that particular detail, but her heart flutters.

Over burgers, fries and milkshakes, she and Robin talk through the usual first-date sort of topics, covering hobbies and interests and family. They talk a bit about their childhoods and learn they each have a sister--he is quite close with his and she barely talks to hers--and they both attended prep school. They graduated from high school in the same year and even applied to some of the same schools, and though their areas of study were quite different, she wonders if they’d chosen differently if their paths would have crossed.

At some point, the boys wander over to the counter to pick out their desserts--a choice that takes immeasurable consideration and deliberation. Finally, they each settle on a slice of pie--Henry’s is apple and Roland’s is some sort of cream-filled one--and they eat at the counter, likely bored of their parents conversation.

The stories about college lead into a conversation about their jobs and that’s when she admits that he did see her on the docks at the beach that and as her cheeks flush red, she admits she’d been working on a story that involved him--and then to her great relief, he smiles that charming smile and asks if he really inspired her that much.

She rolls her eyes and nods telling him that she can’t really explain it, and he offers her and almost knowing nod before shifting the topic to his own career. He talks a bit about his work as an architect--and she before she loses her nerve, she asks if he’s ever gotten an up-close look at some of the architecture around New York City, and then, he smiles again and admits that he’d love to have the opportunity to have someone show him around.

“They have all sorts of tours,” she explains as a frown forms on her lips. “But, of course, tomorrow’s Christmas so they’re not running. So… that was a stupid thing to bring up.”

“It maybe be a bit presumptuous, but I was sort of hoping that… maybe you might want to show me around?” She brightens a bit, but not before he starts to backpedal. “It’s Christmas. Of course you have plans. That was--”

“I don’t, actually.”

“You and Henry don’t have plans for Christmas?”

“Well, we do, sort of, but it’s nothing either of us really want to do. We always go to my parents’ up in Hartford and…” A grin pulls onto her lips. “I doubt anyone would care if we skipped it.”

“Wouldn’t your mother?”

“She has my sister and her family. That’s more than enough company and less chance of an argument.”

“Well, then,” he says, leaning back and grinning. “It seems like a win-win.”

She nods in agreement as they start to plan out where they’ll go and what they’ll see, sprinkling in bits of impressive architecture with kid-friendly tourist attractions around the city--and then, the next thing she knows, the waitress is walking toward their table with a tight little grin, telling them that it’s closing time.

They pay and offer profuse apologies, leaving more than enough as a tip to cover all of the time they spent simply taking up space, and as they step outside, she throws out her hand to hail them a cab.

“Where are you staying?”

Robin blinks. “Oh. Right. I… I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?”

“Well, I didn’t quite expect to have to stay anywhere--”

“Oh--” Her cheeks flush slightly as she laughs. “I’d almost forgotten how this started.”

“Me, too.” Chewing at her lip, she watches a cab switching lanes, presumably to stop at the curb to pick them up. “‘I’m sure I can find a room for Roland and I somewhere. It’s New York City, after all.”

“It’s a holiday.”

Robin’s brows arch and he looks slightly alarmed. “Does that hurt or improve my chances?”

“Honestly? I don’t know.”

“Ah--”

“But I do know that I can get you a room and a nice hotel.”

“Can you?”

She nods. “My ex-sister-in-law… still likes me.”

“Is she a manager somewhere?”

“Um, no… not exactly,” Regina murmurs as the cab pulls up. “She owns it.”

His jaw drops slightly and he laughs, as the four of them get into the cab. Henry’s head rests on her arm and Roland is all but asleep in Robin’s lap, and though, she should also be half asleep, she’s wide awake and doesn’t want this evening to end.

When they get to the hotel, Robin carries Roland inside and Henry drags his feet behind her, and she can’t help but feel a little guilty for the hour-long ride home that awaits them

“You know,” she begins, turning to Robin as the woman behind the desk checks for an available room. “If we are going to spend the day in the city, it’d be pointless for Henry and I to go all the way back to Connecticut.”

Robin nods, grinning sheepishly as his cheeks flushing slightly as he scratches at the back of his neck in a way that’s completely adorable and makes her swoon slightly. “I was… going to suggest that you stay, but I didn’t want to seem… well… too forward or imply something that… might get taken the wrong way.”

She smile, feeling excitement tingling up her spine as she turns back to the desk, asking for two rooms instead of one. She’s never quite felt this way. It’s more than the excitement that comes along with meeting someone new and it’s more than just getting caught up in the romantic nature of their meeting. She’s comfortable with him, but not bored. She finds him attractive and interesting, and somehow the reality of him is so much better than the fantasy she’d created.

“Here you go,” the woman behind the counter says, offering her two room keys. “There’s also a voucher for the restaurant. It’s closed now, but the bar is still open.”

She nods and thanks her as she turns back to Robin, again feeling that little spark as he reaches for her hand. Roland is already asleep on his shoulder and Henry leans heavily on her as they make their way to the elevator. By the time they open up one of the rooms and sort out the keys, Henry is climbing into one of the beds.

“So, I suppose this is my room.”

“I suppose so,” Robin says, laughing softly. “Though I’ll feel bad if it's the bigger of the two.”

“Nonsense. My son’s claimed this one and I’m sure they’re basically the same.”

“Are you tired?”

“Oddly, no.”

“Neither am I.”

“We both should be,” she tells him. “We’ve had very long days.”

“We have, yet… here we are, not tired with a voucher for the bar.”

A grin pulls onto her lips. “Think they do room service?”

“I don’t frequent many five-star hotels, but I am willing to bet that they do.” Again, he smiles that charming smile and again, it makes her heart flutter slightly. “I’d love to pick up where we left off at the diner.”

“Me too,” she admits.

Robin settles Roland on the bed opposite from Henry, and she draws a blanket up over her son. Robin flicks on the bedside lamp just as she’s turning off the overhead lights, and once both boys are tucked in, he leads her through the door that joins their rooms.

He calls down to the bar, ordering some drinks, while she flips on the TV in search of a movie they can watch.

None of this is at all extraordinary, yet it feels so thrilling.

She kicks off her shoes as a knock comes at the door and she settles back on the bed, watching as Robin answers to accept their drinks--and as he turns back to her, she has the faintest thought of how right this all feels. He doesn’t feel like a stranger and she doesn't feel like she has to meet any sort of expectation or hide the things about herself that she thinks he won’t like--after all, he’s likely seen her at her most desperate and he didn’t go running in the opposite direction.

“Alright,” he says. “A pitcher of Sangria.”

“Ooh, sangria. How fun.”

“Festive, too,” he says, pointing out the green limes in the redwine as he sets the tray down and pouring two glasses. “So what should we drink to.”

“To adventurous evenings?”

“To new beginnings?

“To the start of something wonderful.”

“Ah--I like that one,” he says, clinking the edge of his glass to hers as he sits down on the edge of the bed--then, drawing in a deep breath, she leans in, forgetting all about the sangria she brushes her lips over his. He pulls back slightly, smiling as he sets aside his glass and does the same with hers, and then he leans back in. She smiles against his lips, finding them warm, soft, and intoxicating.

Robin’s hand skims up over her cheek as he cups her jaw and rubs his thumb gently along her neck, making her skin tingle. Reaching up, she pushes her fingers into his hair, pulling him closer as she parts his lips with her tongue--and once more, he pulls back, grinning at her before diving back in, kissing her harder and pushing her back against the pillows.

It occurs to her that, in any other situation, this would all be too much, too soon--yet somehow, with him, in this particular moment, it feels just right.

Her heart beats wildly as they kiss and she’s not sure that’s she’s ever craved someone this way, and as the opening music to _It’s a Wonderful Life_  begins to play, they both start to laugh. At first, it’s just a giggle, but his laugh tickles and only makes her laugh harder, and the harder she laughs the harder it is to kiss him. He pulls back as she laughs out, laughing until her sides ache--and Robin laughs right along with her.

When their laughter starts to fade, he leans back in, pecking at her lips as he rests his forehead against her--and then, he tips his head, leaning back in to kiss her again.

And all the while, she can’t help but think, this really is the start of something magical.


End file.
